/  J 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


PRESENTED  BY 

PROF.  CHARLES  A.  KOFOID  AND 

MRS.  PRUDENCE  W.  KOFOID 


• 


HILLSIDE,  ROCK 
AND   DALE 


TAWNY    OWL, 


WITH    THE    BIRDS 

On  Hillside,  Rock,  and  Dale 


BY 


OLIVER  G.  PIKE 

AUTHOR  OF  "WOODLAND,  FIELD,  AND  SHORE";  "IN  BIRD-LAND 
WITH  FIELD-GLASS  AND  CAMERA" 

ETC.    ETC. 


Pied  Wagtail 


ILLUSTRATED   WITH    ONE    HUNDRED    AND   TEN    PHOTOGRAPHS 
TAKEN    DIRECT    FROM    NATURE    BY   THE   AUTHOR 


NEW   YORK 

NEW    AMSTERDAM    BOOK    COMPANY 
1903 


Printed  in  Great  Britain 


Preface 


SOME  additional  results  of  wanderings  in  bird- 
land  since  the  publication  of  Woodland,  Field, 
and  Shore,  are  given  in  this  book.  I  have  endeavoured 
to  picture  with  pen  and  camera  the  homes  and  haunts 
of  those  birds  which  I  have  met  with.  Some  of  these 
are  well  known,  and  may  be  seen  during  an  afternoon 
ramble  in  any  of  our  country  lanes  and  woods ; 
others  are  rare,  and  their  haunts  are  little  known  ; 
some  readers  of  this  book  may  never  have  seen  such, 
and  therefore  I  hope  that  my  accounts  of  their  wild 
homes  will  be  found  acceptable. 

I  have  to  thank  the  following  gentlemen  for  per- 
mission most  kindly  given  to  photograph  birds  and 
nests  in  their  grounds  :  The  Right  Hon.  Sir  Charles 
W.  Dilke,  Bart,  M.P.,  John  W.  Ford,  Esq.,  J.P.,  Colonel 
Evan  Thomas,  Captain* John  Taylor,  Captain  Otto 
Gurlitt,  and  A.  H.  Paynter,  Esq.  I  have  also  specially 
to  thank  Ernest  Smith,  Esq.,  and  W.  K.  Robertson, 
Esq.,  for  the  opportunities  afforded  for  photographing 
birds  and  nests  in  their  grounds,  which  in  the  spring 
and  summer  are  crowded  with  bird  life.  Mr.  Percy 


6  PREFACE 

Hanson  and  Mr.  J.  A.  Walpole  Bond  have  rendered 
me  valuable  assistance  while  photographing  nests, 
and  I  am  also  greatly  indebted  to  all  those  who  have 
informed  me  of  localities  where  our  rarer  birds  breed. 
I  shall  always  be  glad  to  hear  of  such  places  ;  and 
opportunities  for  photographing  birds  and  nests  in 
any  part  of  the  British  Islands  will  always  be  appre- 
ciated. The  Editor  of  the  Daily  Express  kindly 
allovys'  me  to  reproduce  "Sparrow  Town"  and 
"  The  Heron  at  Home,"  which  appeared  in  that 
journaL 


O.   G.   P. 


WINCHMORE  HILL,  MIDDLESEX 
May,   1902 


Contents 


I.       A    SUBURBAN    ESTATE 
II.       THE    HERON    AT    HOME 


49 


III.  THE    HOME    OF    THE    KITE              .                       .                  .            .  56 

IV.  SPARROW    TOWN              ...  68 
V.  THE    PAGEANT    OF    THE    SEASONS                    .                 .            .  74 

VI.  THE    WOOING    OF    BIRDS                 .                       .                 .  Ilr 

VII.  CHAFFINCH    LANE            .                      .                       .  I2O 

VIII.  AN    OUTLAW    OF    THE    AIR              .                       .                 •            •  133 

IX.  THE    DARTFORD    WARBLER           .                       .                 .            .  154 

X.  THE    FARNE    ISLANDS    AND    THEIR    BIRDS                  .            .  160 

XI.  THE    BASS    ROCK              .                       .                      ...  212 

XII.  IN    SEARCH    OF    THE    ROCK    DOVE                   .                 .  230 

XIII.  PROTECTION    OF    BIRDS    NEAR    LONDON                      .            .  2j8 

XIV.  BIRDS    AND    ELECTRICITY                .                      ...  250 


List  of  Illustrations 


Tawny  Owl        Frontispiece 
Pied  Wagtail          Title  page 

Dabchick  .  .  .  II 
Coot's  nest  .  .  .15 
Dabchick  swimming  with 

body  submerged      .         .  19 

Little  Grebes  at  home          .  21 

Little  Grebe        ...  23 

Dabchick  entering  nest        .  24 

Dabchick  sitting           .         .  25 

Dabchick's  nest  covered       .  26 

Dabchick's  nest  uncovered  .  27 

Site  of  Tawny  Owl's  nest    .  31 

Lesser  Whitethroat's  nest     .  39 

Blackcap's  nest    .         .  41 

Garden  Warbler's  nest          .  43 
Robin's      nest      containing 
Cuckoo's      egg.         Dead 

Robin  by  nest         .         .  47 
Heron's  nest        .         .         .51 

Ancient  home  of  the  Kite   .  57 

Ancient  home  of  the  Kite  .  59 
Kite's  nest  .  .  .61 

Kite's  nest           ...  63 

Kite's  nest  ...  64 
Kite's  nest  .  -65 

The  Dipper's  haunt     .         .  67 

Coal-Tit              ...  74 


PAGE 

Coal-Tit  ...  76 

Coal-Tit  ...  77 

Wren's  nest  ...  79 
Coal-Tit  .  .  .81 

Blue-Tit  ...  84 

Blue-Tit  ...  84 

Swans'  double  nest  .  .  87 
Coal-Tit  ...  90 

Small  Heath  Butterfly  .  92 
Large  White  Butterfly  .  93 
Nuthatch  ...  94 

Nuthatch  ...  96 

A  forest  fire  ...  99 
Coal-Tit.  Seeing !  .  .  101 
Coal-Tit.  Smelling  ! .  .103 
Blue-Tit.  Tasting!  .  .  105 
Haunt  of  the  Wild  Duck  .  107 
Whinchat  .  .  .  115 

Chaffinch's  nest.  Decorated 

with  newspaper  .  .121 
Chaffinch's  nest.  Decorated 

with  paper  .  .  .123 
Chaffinch's  nest  .  .  .126 
Young  Chaffinch  .  .  128 
Robin's  nest  .  .  131 

In  the  Raven's  haunt  .  133 

A  hillside  stream  .  135 

Raven's  nest  1 38 


10 


LIST    OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


TheauthorattheRaven'snest 

Raven's  nest 

Author  descending  a  loose 

slate  cliff 
Raven's  nest 
Eggs  of  Raven    . 
A  stream  the  Dipper  loves  . 
Nest   and   egg   of  Dartford 

Warbler 

The  Pinnacles     . 
Rock  Pipit's  nest 
Lesser  Black-backed  Gulls  . 
Lesser  Black-backed  Gulls  . 
Arctic  Terns'  eggs 
Eggs   of    Sandwich   Terns. 

16  nests,  32  eggs  . 
Eggs  of  Ringed  Plover 
Oyster-Catcher's  nest  . 
Oyster-Catcher's  nest  . 
Eider  Duck  sitting 
Nest  of  Eider  Duck  . 
Nest  of  Lesser  Black-backed 

Gull         . 

Herring-Gull's  nest 
Lesser  Black-backed  Gull's 

nest         .... 
Guillemots  on  the  Pinnacles 
Guillemot's  egg 
Guillemots  and  Kittiwakes  . 
Guillemots 
Kittiwakes 
Kittiwakes 
Kittiwakes 
Puffin's  egg  at  entrance  to 

burrow    . 


PAGE 

PAGE 

141 

Puffins        .... 

2O  I 

H3 

Cormorant's  nests 

2O2 

Cormorants 

204 

H5 

Cormorant's  nest 

205 

147 

Cormorants 

207 

149 

Young  Cormorants 

2O9 

153 

Sunset  off  P'arne  Island 

2IO 

The  Bass  Rock  . 

212 

157 

Tantallon  Castle  and  Bay    . 

214 

1  60 

Bass  Rock,  west  side  . 

216 

I64 

Author     descending      Bass 

166 

Rock      .... 

218 

169 

Gannets      .... 

220 

172 

Gannet  sitting     . 

222 

Gannet's  egg 

223 

174 

Gannets      .... 

225 

176 

Gannets  :  a  talkative  quar- 

178 

tette         .... 

227 

179 

Tantallon  Castle.    Haunt  of 

180 

the  Swift 

228 

181 

The  Berwickshire  shore 

230 

The  Rock  Dove's  haunt 

23I 

183 

Entrance    to   Rock   Dove's 

185 

cave         .... 

233 

Rock  Dove's  cave 

236 

187 

Partridge  sitting  . 

239 

1  88 

Partridge's  nest  . 

240 

190 

Swans  and  Cygnets 

242 

191 

Wryneck's  nest   . 

243 

193 

Lapwing's  nest    . 

246 

194 

Pheasant  sitting  . 

2>r 

195 

Lapwing     .... 

197 

Moor-hen  sitting 

254 

Starling      .... 

256 

199 

Puffins        .... 

258 

Hillside,   Rock   and   Dale 


A  Suburban  Estate 


T 


'HE  suburban  estate 
referred  to  in  this 
chapter  forms  part  of  that 
delightfully  wild  tract  of 
Old  England  which  is 
known  as  Enfield  Chase. 
The  greater  part  of  this 
fine  area  is  still  some 
of  the  most  picturesque 
country  in  Middlesex. 
On  this  Chase  stood  three 
large  houses— South,  East, 
and  West  Lodges.  These 
residences  were  probably 

the  homes  of  head-keepers,  and  being  now  surrounded 
as  they  are  with  woods,  fields,  and  lakes,  they  form  the 
finest  harbours  of  bird  life  in  the  county.  It  is  with 
only  one  of  these  estates  that  I  wish  now  to  deal,  and 
for  obvious  reasons  I  do  not  name  the  one  particularly 


DABCHICK 


II 


12         HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

described.  I  can  say,  however,  that  if  any  bird- 
nesters  or  other  destroyers  of  bird  life  are  found 
within  the  well-protected  grounds,  they  will  receive 
a  very  unwelcome  or  inhospitable  reception. 

If  birds  are  given  a  fair  chance  to  breed  on  such 
an  estate  as  the  one  in  question,  it  is  remarkable  to 
find  how  great  is  the  variety  of  species  to  be  found. 
It  would  appear  that  if  one  species  of  birds  are  able 
to  breed  unmolested,  others  find  out  this  reassuring 
fact,  and  in  time  the  place  becomes  a  naturalist's 
paradise.  I  found  kestrels  and  owls  among  the  many 
birds  breeding  here.  The  nest  of  the  latter  was  in  a 
shrubbery,  and  this  was  full  of  smaller  bird  life ;  while 
on  the  estate  over  which  the  kestrels  roamed,  birds 
were  found  in  the  greatest  and  most  charming  abun- 
dance. Why  is  it  that  some  people  will  destroy  all 
birds  of  prey  ?  I  can  assure  them  from  practical 
experience  they  will  have  more  and  stronger  birds  in 
their  grounds  if  they  allow  the  kestrel  and  owls  to 
multiply  in  moderation.  The  weaker  birds,  which 
are  less  able  to  take  care  of  themselves,  will  be 
thinned  out  and  the  stronger  ones  will  remain. 
Natural  selection,  together  with  the  survival  of  the 
fittest,  will  bring  about  an  unlooked-for  but  welcome 
result  in  this  case  ;  so  that  sportsmen,  if  they  want 
sport,  should  encourage  a  few  birds  of  prey  to  breed 
in  their  grounds.  By  this  I  mean  that,  as  a  result, 
there  will  be  strong,  healthy  birds  ;  and  all  sportsmen 


A    SUBURBAN    ESTATE  13 

prefer  to  "grass"  a  partridge  going  down  wind  at 
any  speed  between  fifty  and  eighty  miles  an  hour,  to 
one  that  feebly  rises  at  their  feet  and  flutters  away 
at  a  pace  not  much  quicker  than  their  retrievers  can 
run.  The  stronger  birds  are  quite  able  to  take  care 
of  themselves,  and  the  presence  of  an  enemy  always 
makes  them  more  cute  or  self-reliant,  and  conse- 
quently there  is  more  satisfaction  in  knowing  that 
your  birds  are  the  best  that  can  be  reared. 

This  suburban  estate  contains  one  large  lake  and 
several  smaller  pieces  of  water,  all  of  which  have 
plenty  of  bird  life  to  add  to  their  charms.  The 
larger  or  lower  lake  is  inclosed  by  a  fringe  of  reeds 
and  iris  roots.  In  one  part  especially,  the  whole 
corner  is  overgrown  with  water-plants,  and  often 
as  I  pass  I  see  the  black  head  of  a  reed-bunting 
showing  from  a  swaying  stem ;  or  perchance  one 
hears  the  merry  chat-chat-chat  of  a  sedge-warbler, 
hidden  as  he  is  in  the  thick  bushes  near  the  taller 
reeds. 

Wandering  round  the  lake,  and  keeping  a  keen 
look-out  for  any  movements,  we  can  notice  many 
of  the  lesser-known  habits  of  water-birds  which  are 
here.  In  fact,  if  we  lie  on  the  bank  and  effectually 
hide  ourselves  we  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  numbers 
of  water-birds  at  home.  If  we  want  to  see  how  any 
really  wild  bird  behaves — that  is,  find  out  its  own 
everyday  habits — we  must  be  hidden. 


14         HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 

The  two  white  swans  "on  guard"  in  the  centre 
of  the  large  lake  raise  their  heads  and  swim  slowly 
in  our  direction  ;  the  male  raises  his  wings  and  hisses, 
evidently  wondering  what  two  such  very  early  visitors 
can  want  there.  At  his  note  of  anger  a  moor-hen  flies 
from  the  reeds,  dragging  his  hanging  legs  across  the 
water,  making  little  splashes,  brightened  with  a  touch 
of  gold  by  the  rising  sun.  Others  follow ;  a  coot 
swims  out,  and  on  his  loud  alarm — beck,  a  heron, 
which  we  just  have  time  to  see  standing  "almost  to 
his  breast  feathers  in  the  water,  raises  his  great  wings 
and  flies  to  a  prominent  dead  branch  on  the  small 
wooded  island.  He,  too,  cannot  understand  why  he 
should  thus  be  disturbed  at  his  early  morning  meal. 
Now  seeing  us  he  once  more  opens  his  wings  and 
is  gone. 

Swish,  splash,  quack-ack,  ack  quack  !  What  a  com- 
motion !  A  wild  duck,  greatly  alarmed,  is  almost 
trodden  upon  as  we  go  through  the  reeds.  Away  he 
flies,  quacking  and  beating  the  water  with  his  wings  ; 
then  up  above  the  island  trees,  and  round  he  goes, 
followed  by  others.  Now  they  pass  us,  their  wings 
whistling  as  they  swiftly  go  by;  a  few  more  flights 
round,  and  the  leader  enters  the  water  by  sliding  into 
it,  and  all  follow  his  example.  But  this  will  not  do ; 
we  are  scaring  the  feathered  inhabitants  of  this 
favoured  piece  of -water.  We  hide  behind  a  mound 
of  earth  therefore,  and  peering  through  the  reeds 


A   SUBURBAN    ESTATE  15 

which    are    here    conveniently    thin,    we    wait    and 
watch. 

The  pair  of  swans,  which  for  some  time  look  in 
our  direction,  at  last  settle  down,  and  while  one  lays 
its  long  neck  on  its  back  and  falls  asleep,  the  other 


COOT'S  NEST 


16        HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

feeds  in  a  half-hearted,  lazy  kind  of  way.  Coots 
swim  slowly  out  from  shelter  and  look  well  around  ; 
one  gives  a  contented-sounding  note,  and  goes 
towards  its  nest  among  the  bushes  at  the  farther 
end  of  the  lake.  The  coot  is  the  sentinel  of  any 
lake  or  piece  of  water  on  which  it  is  found.  All 
water  -  birds  seem  to  understand  the  language  of 
coots.  Let  anyone  watch  for  a  time  a  stretch  of 
water  on  which  there  are  plenty  of  waterfowl,  in- 
cluding coots.  If  one  of  the  coots  thinks  there  is 
cause  for  alarm,  he  calls  beck  (danger),  and  all  the 
birds  in  sight  will  slink  away  to  the  shelter  of  reeds. 
But  wait  until  the  coot  swims  out  and  calls  penf-pciif 
(all  right,  all  right),  why,  the  ducks  and  moor-hens 
will  show  themselves,  and  even  the  shy  dabchick  will 
pop  his  head  above  water  and  commence  to  play  on 
the  unrippled  surface.  So  it  is  on  the  occasion  of 
our  early  morning  visit ;  for  the  appearance  of  the 
coots  is  a  signal  to  others  that  all  is  clear.  A  heron 
flying  over,  seeing  the  coots  out  and  about,  turns  in 
his  flight,  circles  round  the  island,  and  lands  near  the 
water  ;  then  for  ten  minutes  he  stands  motionless 
with  head  erect,  watching  intently  the  fields  and 
hedgerows  round  about ;  then  he  lowers  his  head 
and  walks  slowly  towards  the  reeds.  Stepping 
lightly  through  these  he  enters  the  water,  putting 
his  feet  down  so  gently  and  slowly  that  no  trace 
of  a  ripple  is  made,  and  there  he  stands,  silent  and 


A   SUBURBAN   ESTATE  17 

still  for  many  minutes.  His  long  neck  is  bent  and 
his  head  is  drawn  down  to  his  .back,  and  he  appears 
to  be  asleep.  But  slowly  we  see  his  long  beak  rising, 
his  neck  shows,  and  then  his  head  is  plunged  under 
the  water,  and  food  of  some  kind  is  brought  up. 
This  is  swallowed,  and  the  bird  moves  slowly  a  few 
feet  farther  down  by  the  side  of  the  reeds ;  then 
carefully  washing  his  beak  by  shaking  it  backwards 
and  forwards  in  the  water,  he  again  settles  down  to 
watch  and  wait. 

In  a  small  bay  near  one  end  of  the  lake  there 
swims  a  coot.  This  is  the  male,  who  is  guarding 
his  corner  of  the  water,  and  no  other  coot  is  allowed 
to  enter  this  apparently  private  property;  yet  many 
of  these  water-birds  do — perhaps  accidentally — swim 
towards  the  corner,  sacred  to  the  coot  because  his 
mate  is  sitting  on  her  eight  eggs  underneath  a  bush 
just  on  the  shore  of  the  small  bay.  Directly  he  sees 
another  coot  approaching  he  swims  towards  it,  and 
if  the  invader  still  approaches  the  reserved  corner, 
he  endeavours  to  the  best  of  his  ability  to  protect 
this  space  from  trespass.  Not  for  a  moment  does  he 
turn  his  back  to  the  enemy.  Whichever  way  the 
approaching  coot  swims  he  is  faced,  and  when  they 
are  near  to  one  another,  the  coot  on  guard  raises  his 
wings  over  his  back  and  brings  them  forward  in  the 
shape  of  an  open  fan  ;  his  head  and  neck  are  laid 
flat  on  the  water,  the  beak  only  being  raised  a  little, 
B 


iS         HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 

and  so  he  prepares  to  meet  the  trespasser.  The 
other  coot  accepting  this  performance  as  a  challenge, 
puts  himself  in  a  similar  position,  and  swims  towards 
the  challenger.  After  manoeuvring  for  a  short  time, 
always  one  beak  pointing  to  the  other  beak,  one 
drops  his  wings  and  angrily  darts  at  the  other. 
There  is  then  such  a  splashing  and  beating  of  wings 
that  it  is  difficult  to  see  what  the  fighters  are  doing. 
Suddenly  the  hen  leaves  her  nest,  she  can  be  seen 
walking  down  the  bank,  and,  leaping  into  the  air, 
flies  quickly  towards  her  mate  and  helps  to  drive  the 
intruder  away,  followjng  him  for  ten  yards  or  more  ; 
then  returning,  she  goes  back  to  her  eggs,  while  the 
male,  taking  all  the  glory  of  the  fight,  proudly  swims 
round  and  up  and  down  his  small  but  well-protected 
estate,  as  it  might  be  termed.  On  this  bright  summer 
morning  I  saw  this  pretty  episode  of  wild-bird  life 
several  times  repeated,  as  one  and  then  another  coot 
approached  so  closely  to  that  part  of  the  water 
protected  by  the  male  birds. 

After  this  excitement  and  bustle  it  is  some  relief 
to  turn  into  the  shade  and  silence  beneath  the  trees 
round  the  island.  Swimming  slowly  about  there, 
and  feeding,  is  a  dabchick,  his  nest  being  near, 
though  never  could  we  find  it.  Many  attempts  did 
I  make  to  discover  this  nest,  by  watching  the  birds 
and  also  by  searching.  The  latter  exercise  was 
rather  exciting  at  times ;  the  old  punt  leaked  so 


A   SUBURBAN   ESTATE  19 

freely  that  one  could  only  stay  on  board  for  a  short 
period  at  a  time.  One  morning  I  essayed  to  go 
for  a  short  voyage  in  this  weather-beaten  craft,  first 
taking  the  precaution  to  stop  up  all  visible  holes 
and  cracks  with  clay.  I  got  on  swimmingly  for  a 
time  ;  but  when  I  was  in  the  middle  of  the  lake 


P  •  *••• 


DABCHICK    SWIMMING   WITH    BODY    SUBMERGED 

I  accidentally  lost  my  quanting  pole.  This  was 
a  nice  condition  for  a  too  venturesome  naturalist 
to  find  himself  in.  The  punt  was  slowly  filling, 
and  I  could  not  pull  up  the  pole,  which  was  fixed 
fast  in  the  bottom  of  the  lake ;  the  more  I  pulled 
the  faster  the  punt  filled,  and  at  last  I  slipped, 
and  the  boat  glided  away  from  the  pole.  Looking 


20        HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

round  I  saw  lying  in  the  boat  two  large  shells  of 
the  fresh-water  mussel ;  using  these,  I  cleared  out 
as  much  water  as  possible,  and  tried  to  paddle  the 
punt  ashore  with  my  hands — a  long,  tedious  occupa- 
tion, but  which  at  last  had  its  reward. 

To  see  the  little  grebe  at  home  we  must  go  to  one 
of  the  higher  lakes. 

Flickering  balls  of  light  seem  to  be  playing  over 
the  still  surface  of  the  pond,  the  branches  of  many 
trees,  thick  with  foliage  on  either  side,  wave  to 
and  fro,  thus  letting  through  the  cheerful  sunlight. 
Swallows  are  gliding  over  the  surface,  the  snap  of 
their  beaks  as  they  take  in  a  fly  being  distinctly 
heard.  Martins  with  their  white  rumps  follow  the 
swallows,  and  "dip"  every  now  and  then  to  take 
an  insect  from  the  water.  Though  not  clear,  the 
water  can  hardly  be  called  muddy,  and  dark  green 
seems  to  be  its  prevailing  colour.  The  water- 
ranunculus  with  its  white  petals  grows  in  small 
groups,  and  around  these  green  and  white  patches 
tiny  moor-hens  are  swimming.  Their  parents  follow 
and  pick  up  flies  and  feed  their  promising  brood  ; 
but  the  tiny  black  birds  capture  many  of  these 
for  themselves.  On  one  side  of  the  small  lake  is 
a  rookery,  young  rooks  are  calling  and  clamouring 
for  food,  and  as  the  old  birds  approach  with  sup- 
plies of  delicacies,  the  youngsters  are  in  danger  of 
toppling  out  of  their  homes  in  their  eagerness  to 


22         HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 

get  the  first  bite.  All  the  trees  on  the  lake-side 
are  reflected  in  the  water,  their  sentry-like  reflections 
only  being  moved  when  the  water-hens  swim  from 
bank  to  bank.  Altogether  this  is  a  sylvan  scene. 
A  blackcap  gives  out  his  loud,  mellow  notes  from 
near  his  nest;  and  a  chorus  of  other  bird  music  greets 
our  ears  as  we  wander  round  this  picturesque  stretch 
of  water.  The  trees  are  tinted  with  a  variety  of 
green ;  for  spring  is  yet  young,  they  are  not  yet 
clothed  in  the  more  sombre  garb  of  summer,  and 
their  reflections  make  the  water  still  more  a  decided 
green.  Each  tree  has  its  music  :  thrushes  sing  from 
the  elms;  the  coo-coo  of  ring-doves  comes  from 
the  cedars.  The  bushes  are  made  charming  with 
the  notes  of  warblers — blackcaps,  whitethroats,  and 
willow-wrens.  A  chiffchaff  calls  merrily  from  an 
ash  ;  and  near  are  a  pair  of  goldcrests.  This  lake, 
with  the  spring  sunbeams  playing  on  its  surface, 
and  the  music  all  round  about,  is  the  home  of  the 
little  grebe  or  dabchick.  These  birds  love  quietness  ; 
here  is  solitude  as  well  as  perfect  harmony.  We  now 
know  something  about  the  bird's  haunt ;  we  will 
therefore  watch  the  dabchick  at  home. 

There  is  a  ripple  on  the  water,  only  a  slight  dis- 
turbance; the  widening  rings  expand  and  the  pond 
is  soon  still  again.  But  watch  the  surface  once 
more  ;  the  water  is  disturbed,  and  we  see  just  the 
head  and  neck  of  a  bird.  The  grebe  quickly  glances 


A   SUBURBAN   ESTATE  23 

round,  then  dives,  and  a  few  seconds  later  is  up  again 
to  swim  towards  the  water-ranunculus,  then,  diving, 
we  lose  sight  of  him.  This  is  the  male ;  his  mate  is 
sitting  on  her  five  eggs  by  the  water's  edge,  and  if 
we  watch  the  small  bush  under  which  she  is  sitting, 
we  shall  see  the  male  rise  there  or  near  the  spot.  He 
comes  up  a  few  feet  to  the  right,  swims  under  a 


LITTLE    GREBE 

clump  of  rushes,  and  takes  another  look  round.  See- 
ing that  there  is  no  danger,  he  swims  towards  the 
nest  and  offers  his  mate  some  food.  The  hen  takes 
this  love-gift  and  then  immediately  dives.  The 
bird  now  glances  in  the  direction  of  his  thankless 
mate,  then  climbs  on  to  the  nest  and  takes  his  turn 
at  sitting.  In  half  an  hour  the  hen  returns.  I 
watched  these  birds  for  nearly  three  days,  and  seldom 


24         HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 

saw  one  sit  for  more  than  half  an  hour  at  a  time. 
Sometimes  they  changed  after  five  minutes'  sitting. 


DABCHICK   ENTERING    NEST 

It  was  a  pretty  exercise  to  see  them  change.  The 
bird  about  to  relieve  the  other  came  up  at  the  back 
of  the  nest,  then  the  sitting  bird  dived  almost  before 
the  other's  head  showed  above  water. 

When  a  dabchick  leaves  the  nest  it  is  the  usual 
custom  to  cover  the  eggs.  The  nest  is  often  built 
on  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  when  the  eggs  are 
covered  it  looks  exactly  like  a  clump  of  floating 


A   SUBURBAN    ESTATE  25 

weed.  In  a  children's  book  published  a  few  years 
ago,  there  was  a  very  remarkable  chapter  on  natural 
history.  This  dealt  chiefly  with  birds,  and  there 
were  some  wonderful  illustrations  and  descriptions  of 
the  inhabitants  of  birdland.  One  of  these  was  the 
little  grebe.  The  nest  pictured  was  more  like  a 
crow's  nest.  We  were  told  that  if  the  dabchick 
thought  there  was  danger  near,  it  paddled  its  nest  to 
a  safer  place,  and  the  picture  actually  showed  it  in 
the  very  act — that  is,  with  one  foot  on  the  shore  and 


DABCHICK    SITTING 


the  other  in  the  nest,  pushing  off  in  the  same  way  as 
a  boatman  might  send  his  craft  into  the  water !  The 
dabchick  is  a  wonderful  water-bird,  yet  with  its 


26         HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 


marvellous  swimming  and  diving  powers  it  has  not 
yet  reached  such  practice  as  this. 

It  is  exceedingly  interesting  to  note  how  quickly 

the  sitting  bird 

,'«*.       I  ^'^>"iT^?Sk'Ni^lSMHJ|     covers  her  eggs 
vi^vfeii      if  any   intruder 
approaches. 

The  instant 
footsteps  are 
heard  she  stands 
in  her  nest,  and, 
with  her  two 
feet,  scrapes  and 
pushes  water- 
weeds  over  her 
eggs.  She  also 
uses  her  beak 
to  lift  the  larger 
pieces.  Once, 
when  a  little  dog 
came  along  the 
path,  the  grebe 
covered  her  eggs 
and  dived  out  of 
sight  in  the  space 

of  ten  seconds.  Each  time  she  commenced  sitting  the 
first  thing  was  to  uncover  the  eggs,  and  then  the  water- 
weeds  were  arranged  round  her  in  such  positions  as 


DABCHICK  S    NEST   COVERED 


A   SUBURBAN    ESTATE 


to  be  most  convenient  for  recovering  the  eggs  if 
further  danger  was  threatened. 

These  birds  sat  on  their  eggs  for  three  weeks,  and 
then  five  tiny, 
fluffy  balls  of 
feathers  —  the 
young  grebes — 
appeared.  These 
little  creatures, 
not  much  bigger 
than  large  wal- 
nuts, are  re- 
markably clever 
swimmers  and 
divers,  and  are 
so  as  soon  as 
they  leave  the 
shells.  I  was 
able  to  get  near 
them  one  day, 
as  they  were  all 
swimming  about 
near  their  nest. 
The  parents 
were  there  also, 

and  seemed  to  be  in  a  great  state  of  excitement 
Instead  of  diving,  the  young  all  scuttled  towards 
their  mother,  and  a  very  pretty  thing  happened. 


DABCHICK'S  NEST  UNCOVERED 


28         HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 

She  slightly  raised  her  wings,  and  the  youngsters — 
five  in  all — crowded  underneath.  When  all  were  out 
of  sight  she  dived,  with  her  famjly  under  her  wings, 
and  came  up  some  considerable  distance  away. 
This  alone  shows  what  perfect  swimmers  and  divers 
these  extremely  interesting  birds  are. 

When  the  young  were  about  four  weeks  old  the 
parents  constructed  another  nest,  but  this  was  blown 
from  its  moorings  during  a  violent  storm.  However, 
a  third  nest  was  made  in  a  more  secure  place,  and 
the  eggs  were  duly  hatched.  A  share  in  looking 
after  the  second  brood  falls  to  the  lot  of  the  young 
of  the  first  family ;  and  when  all  these  are  full- 
grown  they  make  their  way  to  other  ponds,  and  are 
sometimes  even  driven  by  their  parents,  thus  leaving 
the  latter  in  sole  possession  of  a  haunt  where  there 
is  not  sufficient  accommodation.  "  One-room  life," 
or  overcrowding,  is  far  from  being  in  accordance  with 
the  views  of  the  knowing  old  birds  of  the  little  grebe 
species. 

Near  the  grebes'  home  is  a  small  spinny,  or  wood, 
and  in  this  I  found  a  most  charming  variety  of  bird 
life.  About  half-way  down  the  strip  of  woodland 
stands  the  trunk  of  an  old  tree;  holes  surround  the 
summit,  and  for  a  short  distance  the  interior  is 
hollow.  A  pair  of  tawny  owls  have  their  nest  here, 
and  when  we  found  them  in  their  home  one  of  the 
birds  was  sitting  on  four  eggs.  As  I  looked  into 


A   SUBURBAN   ESTATE  29 

the  nesting-hole  the  eggs  looked  like  those  laid  by 
the  kestrel ;  but  on  a  nearer  inspection  the  supposed 
markings  were  found  to  be  dirt  and  minute  pieces 
of  wood,  which  adhered  to  the  eggs.  The  bird  was 
in  a  corner,  looking  half  asleep ;  but  directly  I 
looked  into  the  hole  she  changed  from  a  sleepy- 
looking  bird  to  one  moved  by  intense  passion.  She 
looked  at  me  with  wide-open  eyes,  fluttered  round 
the  space  in  the  large  hollow  tree,  and  darted  out 
past  my  face,  and  settled  somewhere  near  in  the 
spinny.  This  old  tree  had  probably  been  the  owl's 
home  for  years ;  although,  as  a  rule,  I  believe  these 
birds  do  not  use  the  same  place  two  years  in 
succession,  but  have  about  three  nesting  sites,  and 
use  these  alternately.  In  this  tree  was  also  the 
old  nest  of  a  jackdaw.  This  was  built  about  a 
yard  above  the  awl's  eggs,  and  effectively  cut  off 
all  light  from  above,  except  what  entered  through 
the  hole  in  the  side  of  the  tree. 

In  another  small  wood  in  this  district  a  pair  of 
tawny  owls  yearly  bring  up  a  family.  The  nest  last 
spring  was  immediately  over  a  well-frequented  road, 
and  I  believe  the  birds  were  successful  in  their  efforts 
to  rear  a  brood.  The  male  wood-owl  roosts  during 
the  day  some  distance  from  the  nest,  and  I  always 
knew  where  to  find  him.  He  would  be  seen  sitting" 

o 

on  a  bare  branch,  seemingly  fast  asleep,  but  a  shout 
from  underneath  caused  him  to  turn  his  head  and 


30        HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

look  downwards  with  one  half-opened  eye.  If  he 
thought  danger  was  threatened  he  flew  away,  always 
in.  the  direction  of  the  nest,  and  perched  on  a 
conspicuous  branch  ;  and  once  a  blackbird  spotted 
him.  The  noise  and  commotion  which  the  latter 
then  made  was  worth  hearing,  for  with  his  angry 
cries  he  brought  many  other  birds  upon  the  scene ; 
but  the  owl,  preferring  discretion  to  valour,  flew 
onwards.  In  the  tree  in  which  this  owl  roosted 
there  was  a  solid  platform  of  thickly-matted  ivy,  and 
this  was  used  as  a  table  on  which  to  feed.  I  should 
think  that  most  of  his  food  was  brought  here  to 
be  devoured,  to  judge  by  the  number  of  pellets  cast 
up.  I  often  went  up  the  tree  to  discover  what 
this  interesting  adventurer  had  had  for  his  last  meal. 
Sparrow  remains  were  often  found,  also  plenty  of  fur 
and  teeth,  showing  that  he  was  also  fond  of  rodents. 
The  most  remarkable  thing,  however,  was  the  bones 
and  feathers  of  a  male  blackbird.  The  bones  formed 
one  large  pellet — the  largest  owl's  pellet  I  have  seen 
— and  the  tail  feathers  and  parts  of  the  wings  were 
lying  around.  Perhaps  these  were  the  remains  of  a 
bird  which  came  a  little  too  close  to  the  owl  when 
scolding  him  ;  for  if  a  wood-owl  flies  abroad  during 
the  day,  blackbirds  are  the  first  to  discover  him,  and 
almost  always  attack  the  larger  birds  if  they  go 
too  near  their  nest;  more  probably  it  was  taken 
in  the  silent  hours  of  night  when  roosting  in  the 


A   SUBURBAN   ESTATE 


dark  bushes  near  the  nest.     This,  however,  was  the 
largest  bird  I  have 
known    a    tawny 
owl  to  take. 

The  note  of  the 
tawny  owl  is  a 
sound  I  dearly 
love  to  hear.  It 
is  associated  with 
the  more  wilder 
woods  of  this 
country  that  I 
have  roamed  in ; 
and  to  hear  it 
night  after  night 
as  I  do,  in  our 
northern  suburbs, 
makesone  wonder 
how  much  longer 
these  few  remain- 
ing wild  parts 
near  to  London 
will  remain  un- 
spoiled by  the 
inevitable  specu- 
lative builder. 
These  birds  often 
keep  me  awake  SITE  OF  TAWNY  OWL'S  NEST 


32         HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

at  night,  hooting  from  the  trees  just  outside  my 
chamber  window ;  and  I  know  well  what  they  are 
after — the  sparrows  roosting  in  the  ivy.  And  they 
are  welcome  to  all  they  can  catch,  for  sparrows  must 
be  kept  under,  or  they  increase  beyond  all  bounds. 
On  my  house  there  is  a  good-sized  colony,  and  these, 
as  far  as  numbers  are  concerned,  are  prevented  from 
becoming  overcrowded  by  my  friends  the  owls. 

The  clear  musical  note,  when  uttered  near,  is  to 
me  exceedingly  beautiful.  On  clear  moonlight 
autumn  nights,  when  the  woods  seem  to  be  so 
silently  sleeping,  and  glimpses  of  the  moon  are 
seen  between  the  half-leafless  trees  as  we  wander 
through  ;  when  long  shadows  are  cast  by  the  tall, 
still  pines,  and  most  birds  are  asleep,  is  the  time 
to  hear  the  tawny  owl  to  perfection. 

Let  us  then  go  through  the  woods,  as  quietly 
as  possible,  and  make  our  way  towards  the  old 
weather-worn  tree  where  the  young  were  hatched 
last  year.  This  stands  on  the  edge  of  the  wood, 
and  when  we  reach  it  a  herd  of  deer,  just  beyond, 
having  heard  our  footsteps,  move  slowly  off,  down 
towards  the  silver-sheeted  lake.  On  a  jagged,  wind- 
swept branch  we  see  one  owl  sitting  motionless, 
his  form  dark  against  the  lighter  sky.  We  stand 
in  the  broad  shadow  of  the  tree  and  watch  this 
prowler  of  the  night.  Suddenly  his  feathers  are 
ruffled,  he  leans  forward,  his  wings  are  slightly  raised, 


A   SUBURBAN   ESTATE  33 

and  the  clear  noise — we  can  hardly  call  it  a  hoot — is 
given  out,  and  it  seems  to  ring  down  between  the 
forest  trees.  An  answer  in  the  distance,  another 
longer  hoo-hoo,  hoo-o-o-o-o-o,  and  the  night-bird  flies 
away,  leaving  the  old  branch  trembling  and  creaking, 
the  only  sounds  and  movements  on  this  calm  night 
in  autumn. 

One  of  the  features  of  a  summer  evening  in  the 
New  Forest  is  the  hooting  of  many  wood-owls. 
Heard  from  across  the  bleak,  wild  moors,  where 
the  nightjar  reels  out  his  notes,  the  sounds  are 
particularly  weird  and  awesome.  Whenever  I  hear 
this  hoot  I  think  of  evenings  spent  in  those  wild 
parts,  which  I  look  back  upon  as  some  of  my  happiest 
times  with  Nature. 

The  young  remain  in  their  nest  for  some  weeks, 
and  when  able  to  fly,  keep  near  their  old  haunt. 
In  the  summer  twilight  I  have  often  seen  them 
sitting  on  a  branch,  repeatedly  giving  out  their 
curious  notes  kee-wick,  while  their  parents  were 
beating  a  neighbouring  meadow  for  food  for  their 
offspring.  If  these  saw  their  elders  approaching 
they  flew  towards  them  in  prospect  of  a  meal,  while 
at  other  times  the  distant  hoot  was  answered  by 
the  short,  sharp  kee-wick  and  the  youngsters  flew 
away. 

The  tawny  owl  is  said  to  pair  for  life.  I  once 
heard  in  early  spring  one  of  these  owls  making 
c 


34         HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 

the  most  curious  noises  ;  he  was  evidently  courting, 
and  in  a  great  state  of  expectant  excitement.  The 
hoot  was  given,  started  in  the,  ordinary  way,  then 
it  was  stopped  to  be  started  again  in  a  louder  key. 
There  was  hesitation  again,  and  then  came  the 
finish  with  notes  which  sounded  as  if  he  was  filled 
with  joy.  The  answer  to  all  this  was  the  notes 
kee-wick,  kee-wick,  and  in  the  twilight  I  could  see 
two  shadowy  forms,  one  chasing  the  other.  I 
imitated  his  call  as  near  as  possible,  to  see  what 
the  result  would  be,  and  he,  no  doubt  thinking  me  to 
be  another  owl,  moved  farther  afield  with  his  mate ; 
and  with  a  parting  hoot  reminded  me  that  two  is 
good  company  while  three  may  be  otherwise. 

Not  very  far  from  the  owls'  haunt  in  the  suburban 
park  a  pair  of  kestrels  reared  a  family,  and  although 
I  was  constantly  rambling  round  the  fields,  it  was 
not  until  the  young  were  able  to  fly  that  I  really 
knew  they  had  bred  there,  and  then  I  could  not  find 
the  nest  which  they  had  utilised.  I  often  saw  one  of 
the  birds  hovering,  however, 

"  As  if  let  down  from  the  heaven  there 
By  a  viewless  silken  thread." 

Few  of  the  smaller  birds  seem  to  fear  the  kestrel. 
If  he  flies  over  they  heed  him  not,  for  they  know  he 
is  no  general  enemy  of  theirs,  like  the  sparrow-hawk. 
It  is  surprising  what  a  number  of  small  birds  will  be 


A   SUBURBAN    ESTATE  35 

found  breeding  near  a  kestrel.  I  have  known  a 
spotted  flycatcher  to  nest  in  the  same  tree.  If  we 
visit  the  haunt  of  these  birds  and  search  for  pellets 
underneath  their  nests,  nearly  all  contain  the  remains 
of  mice  and  beetles,  very  few  feathers  being  found. 
I  did  once  find  a  sparrow  underneath  a  kestrel's  nest, 
and  I  believe  some  feathers  of  a  chaffinch,  but  there 
was  nothing  else  to  prove  they  fed  on  birds.  The 
kestrel  is  undoubtedly  one  of  the  farmer's  best  friends, 
and  all  should  be  encouraged. 

Why  such  a  war  of  extermination  should  be  waged 
against  this  entertaining  and  harmless  species  I  never 
could  understand.  It  may  be  because  he  goes  by  the 
name  of  a  hawk.  "  Give  even  a  bird  a  bad  name  and 
kill  him,"  is  in  keeping  with  an  old  proverb ;  and  a 
keeper  once  told  me  confidentially  that  he  shot  "all 
orks  and  howls"  that  entered  his  preserve.  I  think 
that  this  mistaken  zeal  is  the  chief  reason  why  the 
attractive  kestrel  is  so  scarce  in  parts  of  England. 

At  all  times  of  the  year  kestrels  are  worth  atten- 
tion. Whenever  I  see  one  I  stop  and  watch  it,  for 
the  light,  buoyant  flight ;  the  graceful  hovering  ;  and, 
most  wonderful  of  all,  its  soaring,  are  always  worth 
noting.  Let  us  go  back  a  month  or  two  and  watch 
them  soaring  in  the  pairing  season.  The  flat  expanse 
of  arable  land  before  me  looks  dull  and  bare.  Long, 
dark  furrows  are  as  lines  down  the  fields  ;  hedges 
dividing  these  are  trimmed  and  leafless  ;  the  oaks  and 


36         HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 

elms  are  tinted  with  red  on  their  smaller  branches  ; 
some  of  the  fields  are  green  with  young  corn — and 
over  one  of  these  a  skylark  is  singing  his  early  love- 
song.  A  kestrel  is  seen  gliding  towards  me,  a  little 
higher  than  the  tall  elms,  and  some  distance  away  is 
seen  another  hovering  over  waste  land  in  the  corner 
of  a  field.  The  one  nearest  stops  in  his  flight,  hovers 
for  a  moment,  theti  commences  to  rise  in  the  air.  He 
makes  an  upward  swoop  against  the  wind,  turns  in  a 
ring,  and  is  borne  upwards  in  circles  without  any 
movement  of  his  wings.  Before  the  bird  has  gone 
far  in  his  upward  progress  the  other  kestrel  comes 
nearer ;  he  makes  a  grand  sweep  across  the  wind  up 
towards  his  mate,  and  commences  soaring  immedi- 
ately underneath,  only  flying  in  an  opposite  direction. 
In  this  way  the  birds  rise,  the  beauty  of  their  flight 
and  the  pleasing  effect  of  their  crossing  and  recrossing 
in  the  well- measured  circles  is  beyond  description. 
Up,  up  they  go  until  they  look  like  dots  in  the  blue 
vault  of  heaven.  I  have  watched  these  kestrels  on 
lovely  spring  mornings,  when  the  atmosphere  has 
been  calm  and  bright,  and  when  from  immediately 
underneath  it  was  almost  as  if  I  was  the  centre  of 
the  circle,  and  the  acting  birds  were  revolving  round 
me,  ever  getting  smaller  and  smaller.  One  second 
the  brown  back  of  one,  and  then  the  light  breast  of 
the  other,  gleaming  in  the  sun  at  the  same  moment  as 
they  turn  sideways  to  circle  round.  All  this  wonder- 


A   SUBURBAN   ESTATE  37 

ful  exercise  is  performed  without  any  visible  move- 
ment of  their  outstretched  wings ;  and  from  the  time 
the  birds  commence  soaring,  until  they  look  smaller 
than  a  skylark  at  its  highest  elevation,  there  is  not 
even  a  single  flap  or  beat  of  the  wings.  How  is  it 
done?  If  there  was  any  wind  it  might  be  accounted 
for  by  supposing  that  the  force  of  air  behind  on  one 
side  of  the  circle  drove  the  actors  forward  to  sur- 
mount the  breeze  when  they  met  it.  But  I  have  seen 
kestrels  soaring  in  a  perfect  calm,  in  the  sweltering  heat 
of  summer,  when  even  all  birds  except  skylarks  seem 
to  stop  their  songs.  I  have  seen  the  little  red  hawk 
go  towards  the  blue  with  outspread  wings,  when  even 
the  silvery  thistledown,  dropping  from  the  tall  plants, 
falls  to  the  greensward  below  instead  of  floating 
lightly  away,  and  when  a  falling  leaf  drops  like  a 
stone  from  the  highest  tree  ;  in  those  depressing  days, 
when  swallows  sit  on  leafy  trees  and  rest  from  the 
noonday  heat,  the  kestrel  goes  upward  unhelped  by 
any  wind. 

Other  birds  besides  hawks  have  this  power  of 
soaring.  If  one  wishes  to  see  the  full  mystery 
of  such  flight,  it  is  necessary  to  see  certain  sea-birds 
in  a  gale.  Many  times  I  have  watched  lesser  black- 
backed  gulls  sailing  slowly  and  surely  with  motionless 
wings,  in  the  teeth  of  the  stiffest  gales.  The  stronger 
the  wind  the  more  perfect  and  wonderful  their 
movement  seems  to  be ;  for  it  is  not  until  they  turn 


38        HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

and  are  carried  like  a  bullet  down  wind,  that  one 
realises  what  a  marvellous  power  this  is  which  will 
cause  even  large  birds  to  travel  straight  and  sure 
against  a  tempest. 

Another  wonderful  power  the  kestrel  has  is  the 
power  of  hovering.  Many  other  birds  are  able  to 
hover.  Titmice,  finches,  some  of  the  warblers,  and  the 
kingfisher  all  hover  at  times  to  procure  their  food  ; 
but  their  movements  are  heavy  and  clumsy  when 
compared  with  the  hovering  of  the  inimitable  kestrel. 
Some  observers  have  thought  that  kestrels  can  only 
hover  in  a  wind,  but  this  is  a  mistake.  On  the 
calmest  autumn  days  the  kestrel  will  keep  motionless 
high  up  over  its  prey.  When  there  is  any  wind 
at  all,  however  slight,  the  kestrel  must  face  it  if 
he  wishes  to  hover.  How  often  one  sees  the  bird 
lose  its  balance  when  watching  its  prey.  Howrever 
slightly  it  turns  when  facing  the  wind  while  hovering, 
it  seems  to  fall,  as  it  were,  and  has  to  circle  round 
to  again  face  the  breeze.  The  force  of  the  wind 
has  little  effect  on  a  kestrel's  powers.  He  can  hover 
almost  as  well  in  a  gale  as  in  a  perfect  calm. 

I  mentioned  before  that  a  great  abundance  of 
small  bird  life  was  to  be  found  in  this  suburban 
estate.  The  blackcap  and  garden  -  warbler  were 
found  breeding  in  proximity,  almost  underneath  the 
tawny  owl's  nest.  The  garden  -warbler  seemed  to 
prefer  the  boundary  hedges,  while  the  blackcap 


LESSER   VVH1TETHROAT  S   NEST 


40         HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 

seemed  to  choose  the  thick  undergrowth,  making  his 
nest  near  the  ground.  The  blackcap  is  a  merry 
bird,  always  singing,  even  while  sitting.  I  once  saw 
a  male  blackcap  building  his  nest.  He  was  turning 
round  and  round,  working  the  grasses  into  shape 
with  his  breast  and  body,  and  fluttering  his  wings, 
but  all  the  time  he  was  singing  as  merrily  as  though 
it  were  his  early  morning  song.  I  stood  watching 
this  happy  little  worker  and  suddenly  he  saw  me. 
His  whole  behaviour  changed;  he  ceased  his  song, 
slinked  off  the  nest,  and  strange  to  say  never  returned 
to  complete  it,  although  I  did  not  so  much  as  touch 
the  bush  in  which  he  was  building.  The  male  is 
often  seen  sitting  during  the  day,  and  soon  after 
I  photographed  the  nest  pictured  here,  he  returned, 
hopped  into  it,  "  worked  "  himself  into  a  comfortable 
position,  and  seemed  to  be  thoroughly  at  home. 

Many  warblers,  especially  the  whitethroat  and 
garden-warbler,  build  more  nests  than  they  really 
have  need  of.  Sometimes  these  arc  only  just  com- 
menced and  then  abandoned  ;  at  other  times  they 
are  nearly  finished.  The  garden-warbler  makes  at 
least  one  of  these  curious  extra  nests  nearly  every 
time  of  nest-building.  A  great  many  birds  make 
these  additional  nests ;  I  have  found  one  on  two 
occasions  within  a  yard  of  nightingales'  nests  con- 
taining eggs.  The  reed-warbler  often  makes  a  rough 
nest  in  the  same  clump  of  reeds  in  which  its  proper 


A   SUBURBAN    ESTATE 


nest  is  situated.  This  additional  one  is  nearly 
always  a  very  clumsy  structure,  and  is  never  used  for 
eggs.  Why  these  are  made  is  a  puzzling  question. 
The  birds  probably 
begin  them  and  then 
find  that  the  situation 
is  not  suitable,  and 
commence  elsewhere; 
yet  this  does  not 
account  for  the  gar- 
den -  warbler  nearly 
always  doing  so. 
Perhaps,  when  the 
nest  proper  is  com- 
pleted, the  male,  not 
having  so  much  to 
do,  commences  build- 
ing on  his  own  ac- 
count. 

I  like  to  be  among 
the      warblers      in 
spring.      A    small 
suburban     wood      in 
the     early     morning 
contains  such  a  con- 
cert  of   song   and    melody,  that   few,  except   those 
that  have  been   among  them   at  sunrise,    have  any 
idea  of  the  charm.     When   the   first  beams   of  the 


m , 


BLACKCAPS    NEST 


42         HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 

rising  sun  penetrate  the  leaves  I  have  often  heard  a 
simultaneous  outburst  of  song,  seeming  as  though 
every  tree  had  a  concert  in  itself,  for  every  tree  in 
the  wood  contains  its  band  of  singers.  No  written 
description  can  picture  the  effect,  or  give  any  idea  of 
the  glorious  and  wonderful  melody.  Thrushes  rise 
to  the  taller  trees  and  call  out  their  far-reaching 
notes.  They  sit  facing  the  east,  and  the  yellow 
beams  light  up  their  spotted  breasts  ;  their  beaks  are 
raised,  and  they  sing,  as  it  were,  to  the  sun.  Black- 
birds, with  their  more  mellow  songs,  whistle  out  a 
few  wild  notes  here,  then  fly  on,  and  each  green  tree 
and  every  flower-covered  corner  is  enlivened  by  their 
music.  They  travel  round  the  wood,  now  rising  to 
the  height  of  the  pines,  then  descend  with  fluttering 
wings  and  spread  tail  and  settle  on  a  holly  bush  ;  but 
at  every  halting-place  they  give  out  their  music,  for 
they,  too,  sing  to  the  sun.  Then  in  the  lower  bushes 
and  among  the  tall,  wild  parsley,  whitethroats  sing, 
hovering  a  moment  over  the  hedge  just  to  catch  a 
fly,  then  drop  back  again  ;  but  still  they  give  their 
love-calls,  and  sing  to  their  mates  in  the  well-hidden 
nests.  Garden-warblers  sit  in  the  smaller  trees,  and 
between  their  busy  moments — they  are  hunting  for 
early  insects — they  find  time  to  sing  to  the  morning, 
and  a  pretty  song  it  is,  sweet  and  like  the  sunbeams, 
bringing  joy  to  all  around.  But  of  all  the  songs  in 
the  wood  at  early  morning  I  love  the  blackcap's  best. 


A   SUBURBAN    ESTATE 


43 


He  is  such  a  small  bird,  and  seldom  shows  himself, 
yet  he  gives   out   such    loud  notes,  which   seem    to 


GARDEN- WARBLER  S   NEST 


speak  of  freedom   in   its  wildest   sense.      If  we  are 
fortunate  enough  to  see  him,  it  is  a  charming  picture. 


44        HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

He  sings  with  such  force,  and  seems  to  be  putting 
his  whole  soul  into  his  vocal  exercise,  and  as  we 
listen  we  hear  his  song  alone ;  the  birds  around  are 
calling,  but  we  heed  them  not,  and  until  our  bird 
ceases  all  our  attention  is  riveted  on  him. 

There  is  a  brightness  in  these  early  morning  songs 
which  is  not  heard  later  in  the  day.  All  birds  are 
pouring  out  their  best  strains,  and  be  it  robin,  thrush 
or  blackcap,  or  the  rnerry  willow-warblers,  with  their 
continual  chiming,  all  seem  to  vie  with  one  another 
to  excel  their  near  neighbours,  and  the  result  is  a 
triumph  of  song,  only  heard  by  those  who  take  the 
trouble  to  visit  our  suburban  woods  in  the  early 
morning.  I  say  suburban  woods,  because  in  these 
places  there  are  more  birds.  A  small  wood  of  a  few 
acres  in  extent,  surrounded  with  buildings,  will  be 
crowded  with  bird  life,  and  more  so  than  one  of  the 
same  size  far  from  any  dwelling. 

In  another  spinny  of  this  suburban  estate  I  found 
the  lesser  whitethroat  breeding.  When  I  discovered 
the  nest  it  contained  two  eggs.  I  waited  a  few  days, 
hoping  the  bird  would  lay  the  full  clutch,  but  when 
I  went  to  photograph  it  there  was  only  one  egg. 
Probably  an  egg-stealing  bird  took  the  rest.  There 
were,  I  believe,  two  pairs  of  carrion  crows  nesting 
near,  and  these  robbers  were  responsible  for  a  number 
of  lost  eggs.  The  moor-hens'  and  coots'  eggs  were 
taken,  and  in  one  coot's  nest  of  eight  eggs,  only  one 


A   SUBURBAN    ESTATE  45 

young  bird  was  successfully  reared.  The  carrion 
crows  in  North  London  are  becoming  a  nuisance; 
there  was  a  number  of  nests  last  year  at  Winchmore 
Hill,  and  the  young  from  these  have  made  a  large 
increase.  Last  spring  a  very  great  number  of  nests 
were  robbed  by  these  birds.  They  are  becoming  so 
common  that,  instead  of  keeping  in  pairs  as  they  did 
years  ago — when  in  these  parts  they  were  considered 
rare  birds — they  now  flock  together  after  the  manner 
of  rooks,  and  I  have  seen  three  carrion  crows'  nests 
within  a  few  yards  of  each  other. 

Two  pairs  of  cuckoos  placed  their  eggs  in  nests  on 
this  suburban  estate.  One  of  these  eggs  was  found 
in  a  robin's  nest,  and  a  day  cr  two  after  the  egg  was 
placed  therein,  the  robin  was  found  dead  outside  the 
nest.  Probably  the  cuckoo  visited  the  nest  while  the 
robin  was  sitting,  and  the  smaller  bird  attacked  the 
larger ;  however,  the  real  cause  of  the  little  tragedy 
will  never  be  known.  My  opinion  is  that  cuckoos 
often  do  visit  their  eggs  to  see  that  they  are  all  right, 
and  very  likely  this  particular  one  did  this.  Robins 
are  at  all  times  pugnacious  birds,  and  I  suspect  that 
this  one  got  killed  in  a  fight  with  a  supposed  enemy. 
The  little  bird's  neck  had  been  pierced,  and  this  was 
the  cause  of  death.  The  camera  pictures  the  tragedy 
just  as  it  was  seen.  One  often  comes  upon  pictures 
like  this  in  Nature,  and  they  just  show  that  wild 
nature  has  its  troubles  and  misery  as  well  as  human 


46         HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 

nature.  I  have  heard  heartless  birds-nesters  put  the 
argument  that  it  cannot  possibly  matter  taking  birds' 
eggs,  for  the  birds  have  ho  feelings,  and  no  misery 
can  be  caused.  Against  this  I  have  seen  one  or  two 
little  incidents  which  go  to  prove  that  birds  are  very 
sensitive,  and  have  feelings  akin  to  ours.  I  have 
found  a  redstart  dead  in  its  nest  a  few  hours  after  the 
eggs  were  taken  ;  I  have  also  found  a  swallow  dead 
in  its  nest ;  and  I  have  known  a  carrion  crow  refuse 
to  eat  after  its  mate  had  been  shot ;  it  simply  flew 
from  tree  to  tree  and  called  repeatedly,  and  at  last 
moped  and  died.  Then  on  one  or  two  occasions  I 
have  been  almost  attacked  by  small  birds  when 
approaching  too  near  to  their  young.  There  are 
other  incidents  I  could  relate,  yet  I  think  these  are 
proof  that  birds  love  their  eggs  and  young  with  a  love 
which  is  almost  human. 

We  found  a  great  number  of  other  nests  on  this 
suburban  estate,  including  those  of  the  great  tit, 
wren,  whitethroat,  starling,  tree-creeper,  chaffinch, 
hedge-sparrow,  partridge  —  this  latter  contained 
fifteen  eggs.  The  linnet  nested  on  the  boundaries, 
and  often  we  heard  his  song  as  he  sat  on  the  yellow 
gorse.  There  were  two  rookeries,  one  near  the 
house,  and  the  other  by  the  side  of  one  of  the  smaller 
lakes.  While  hiding  underneath  one  of  the  trees 
containing  several  nests,  and  watching  the  little  grebe, 
I  heard  a  slight  commotion  above  me ;  looking  up,  I 


ROBIN'S   NEST   CONTAINING   CUCKOO'S   EGG  :     DEAD    ROBIN   BY   NEST 


48         HILLSIDE,    ROCK,   AND    DALE 

saw  a  squirrel  descending  the  tree,  and  in  its  mouth 
was  a  baby  rook.  The  little  thief  passed  within  a 
yard  of  me,  and  then  silently  went  on  its  way. 
Lapwings  were  daily  seen  in  the  meadows,  and  alto- 
gether we  found  a  grand  variety  of  bird  life  here. 

All  this  shows  what  protection  will  do.  This  year 
we  hope  to  find  an  increased  number  of  our 
feathered  friends  ;  the  more  we  see  of  them  and  the 
more  we  hear  of  their  music,  the  more  we  love  them. 
I  wish  there  were  more  of  these  estates,  where  the 
birds  are  so  well  protected.  Often  the  protection  of 
birds  on  an  estate  is  left  to  the  discrimination  of 
keepers  ;  if  such  men  are  ignorant,  and  simply  follow 
stock  ideas  and  imaginations  of  their  simple  and 
more  ignorant  predecessors,  there  is  very  little  hope 
for  our  birds.  Happily  there  are  many  keepers  who 
are  also  naturalists  and  take  an  interest  in  the  birds 
on  the  estates.  Let  anyone  who  doubts  my  state- 
ments at  the  beginning  of  this  chapter  give  them  a 
trial,  and  I  can  guarantee  that  the  result  will  be  a 
pleasant  surprise  ;  they  will  live  in  a  place  surrounded 
on  all  sides  with  scenes  of  happiness  and  avian  music; 
and  if  they  will  often  walk  abroad  in  the  fields  and 
woods,  the  birds  will  get  to  know  them,  and  will  not 
fly  from  their  path.  There  is  nothing  more  pleasing 
than  to  make  friends  with  the  wild  denizens  of  wood- 
land, field,  or  stream. 


II 
The  Heron  at  Home 

EAVES  cling  to  the  oaks ;  they  rustle  sadly  as 
the  keen  winter  wind,  passing  first  over  the 
rippled  lake,  blows  in  gusts  through  the  trees.  Now 
and  again  dark-brown  leaves  or  small  branches  drop 
and  are  lost  sight  of  in  the  dying  bracken  ;  brown 
rabbits  moving  slowly  about  with  short  jerks  or  hops 
are  almost  invisible. 

A  kestrel  hovering  beyond  the  lake  is  difficult  to 
see  when  he  drops  and  hovers  again,  like  a  bird 
poised  by  an  elastic  string,  between  me  and  the  giant 
oak. 

It  is  not  until  one  hears  the  unmistakable  and 
piteous  squeal  of  a  young  rabbit,  that  we  again  catch 
sight  of  the  bird,  fluttering  and  struggling  with  his 
prey.  Young  rabbits  of  all  sizes  may  be  found  in 
any  month  of  the  year ;  I  have  come  across  them 
when  they  were  just  able  to  run  about  in  the  depth 
of  winter.  Now  for  a  time  there  is  silence  as  one 
bunny  and  then  another  pops  his  head  out  of  his 
hole,  listens,  looks  around,  and  then  ventures  out 
again. 

D  49 


50         HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 

A  shadow  passes  over  the  lake,  and  a  heron  is 
seen  gliding  between  the  trees.  He  settles  near  the 
stream  side.  Just  behind  him  are  some  bushes,  and 
behind  these  is  a  carrion  crow.  For  some  minutes 
the  heron  stands  motionless.  His  long  neck  is 
raised  ;  he  is  taking  in  every  movement  in  the  land- 
scape. Now  a  rabbit  making  from  mound  to  mound 
is  noticed,  and  quickly  his  head  is  turned. 

All  this  time  the  crow  is  slowly  and  seemingly 
innocently  walking  in  the  direction  of  the  larger  bird, 
but  our  heron  does  not  seem  to  heed  him.  Nearer 
and  still  nearer  he  comes,  pretending  to  be  feeding, 
and  then,  when  only  a  yard  separates  them,  the  crow 
runs  swiftly  forward  and  inflicts  a  sharp  peck  on  the 
long  legs  of  the  unsuspecting  heron. 

A  hop,  skip,  and  a  jump,  an  angry  note,  fraank  ! 
and  the  heron,  evidently  suffering  from  that  uncom- 
fortable feeling,  that  which  mortals  also  sometimes 
experience,  of  having  been  "done,"  flies  to  the  other 
side  of  the  lake,  Not  so  the  crow.  He  is  naturally 
exultant,  and  his  sarcastic  cry  sounds  uncommonly 
like  the  expression  of  a  cunning  boy  who  has  taken 
another  by  surprise. 

This  scene  was  the  most  comical  little  episode  I 
have  witnessed  in  wild  Nature,  and  I  feel  sure  the 
cute  old  crow — the  chief  actor  in  the  comedy — 
enjoyed  the  fun  as  much  as  I  did  as  a  looker-on. 

The  heron,  evidently  satisfied  that  no  human  in- 


HERON  S    NEST 


52         HILLSIDE,    ROCK,   AND    DALE 

traders  are  about,  walks  to  the  water's  edge.  A  row 
of  low  reeds  fringes  the  lake,  and  between  these  and 
the  shore  there  is  a  strip  of  shallow  water,  the  ground 
being  trodden  into  slimy  mud  by  cattle  which 
come  to  drink.  Into  this  water  the  heron  wades, 
stalking  slowly  along,  raising  his  long  neck,  and 
peering  into  the  deeper  water  beyond  the  reeds. 

If  one  wishes  to  see  stalking  brought  to  a  fine  art 
it  is  necessary  to  watch  a  heron.  His  legs  are  in  the 
water  to  the  depth  of  about  eight  inches,  yet  he  walks 
on  without  leaving  the  slightest  trace  of  a  ripple. 
One  leg  is  raised  very  slowly,  and  gradually,  by  a 
circular  movement,  is  brought  out  of  the  water,  and 
then  as  slowly  dipped  into  it  again,  the  bird  some- 
times taking  a  minute  to  progress  one  step.  He  sees 
something  beyond  the  reeds,  and  rather  than  hurry, 
he  risks  losing  the  fish  or  whatever  it  may  be. 

The  long  beak  is  raised  gradually  higher  and 
higher,  and  the  bird  leans  forward,  and  we  see  one 
leg  moving  if  we  watch  closely,  for  the  movement 
is  hardly  perceptible.  Now  the  leg  is  raised  and 
pushed  silently  among  the  reeds,  and  by  a  slow, 
forward  motion  the  heron  is  nearer  to  his  prey. 

Swish !  The  beak  is  plunged  in  and  the  bird 
seems  to  fall  forward  into  the  water,  but  the  next 
second  turns  and  walks  quickly  out  with  a  small 
wriggling  eel  in  his  beak.  This  is  rapidly  swallowed, 
and  after  rubbing  his  beak  on  the  grass  he  walks 


THE    HERON    AT    HOME  53 

rather  hurriedly  along  the  grassy  bank  and  enters 
the  water  farther  down. 

There  is  a  break  in  the  reeds  here,  and  from  our 
place  of  concealment  among  the  bracken  it  looks 
like  a  little  bay.  Here  the  bird  wades  into  deeper 
water,  until  his  lower  breast  feathers  are  hidden, 
and  waits  for  about  half  an  hour ;  but  as  sport  is 
not  equal  to  expectations  he  again  takes  to  the  reeds 
and  soon  catches  two  eels  more. 

At  this  end  of  the  lake  the  water  is  deep ;  reeds 
and  water-plants  are  absent,  and  it  is  necessary  for 
our  bird  to  walk  along  the  bank.  Although  this  is 
quite  two  feet  above  the  surface  of  the  lake  he  stalks 
along  quite  as  carefully  as  if  he  was  actually  in  the 
stream,  the  only  difference  being  that  a  crouching 
attitude  is  maintained.  As  he  nears  the  weeping 
willow  in  the  corner  he  stands  and  intently  watches 
the  water.  By  stretching  out  his  neck  over  the  bank 
he  seems  to  be  noticing  the  movements  of  something 
some  distance  out. 

How  long  will  he  remain  in  this  position?  It  seems 
interminable ;  one  would  think  he  would  tire.  But 
a  heron  waiting  and  watching  for  prey  will  remain 
for  long  scanning  what  to  us  looks  like  a  hopeless 
outlook.  If  a  taxidermist  were  to  set  up  a  heron 
in  some  of  the  positions  I  have  seen  them  for  long 
patiently  maintain,  he  would  be  laughed  at,  and  be 
told  by  everybody  that  it  was  the  most  unnatural 


54        HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

piece  of  work  that  such  an  artist  could  possibly  turn 
out. 

Even  good  artists  may  spoil  their  work  by  drawing 
birds  in  what  may  be  artistic,  but  which  certainly  are 
most  unnatural,  attitudes  ;  photography,  however,  is 
now  showing  us  the  correct  attitudes  of  birds  and 
animals  in  their  natural  state. 

Now  the  heron  leans  forward  still  more,  and 
suddenly  makes  a  great  jump  into  the  lake.  What 
a  mighty  splash  he  makes,  for  as  he  touches  the 
water  the  enormous  wings  are  opened,  and  the  bird, 
with  the  exception  of  just  the  tips  of  these,  is 
completely  submerged. 

He  is  far  out  of  his  depth,  yet,  with  his  wings  and 
legs  used  as  paddles,  he  is  quickly  on  the  surface 
again.  What  does  he  care  for  a  ducking,  when  in 
his  beak  is  a  silvery  fish  quite  eight  inches  long  ? 
Instead  of  attempting  to  wade,  he  rises  from  the 
water  and  flies  to  the  bank  ;  then,  with  a  vigorous 
shake  of  his  feathers,  sends  the  spray  in  all  direc- 
tions. The  fish,  making  desperate  efforts  to  escape, 
is  first  squeezed,  or  rather  crushed,  between  the 
powerful  mandibles,  and  afterwards  tossed  up  in  the 
air.  It  is  then  caught  head  foremost,  and  we  notice 
the  snake -like  neck  swelling  as  the  fish  passes 
down. 

After  this  exciting  adventure  the  heron  goes  to 
the  bank  and  washes  his  beak,  by  first  shaking  it  in 


THE    HERON    AT    HOME  55 

the  water,  and  then  wiping  it  several  times  on  the 
grass.  Whenever  herons  catch  anything  in  the 
water,  they  always  wash  their  beaks  before  going 
in  search  of  more. 

This  bird  was  at  least  two  hundred  yards  away 
from  me,  yet  with  my  Goerz  Trieder  binoculars  the 
scene  seemed  but  five  or  six  yards  distant.  Every 
field  naturalist  should  equip  themselves  with  these 
small  but  powerful  glasses ;  with  them  Nature  is 
seen  in  a  new  light. 

A  gun  is  now  fired  in  the  wood,  and  at  the  first 
report  the  heron  raises  its  great  wings ;  and  on 
hearing  the  discharge  of  the  second  barrel,  the  fisher 
bird  flaps  slowly  across  the  lake,  over  the  rustling 
oaks,  and  is  lost  to  view  in  the  wild  sky,  reddened 
by  the  setting  winter  sun. 


Ill 

The  Home  of  the  Kite* 

1WISH  this  chapter  could  be  called  "The  Kite 
at  Home";  but  kites  are  now  so  exceedingly 
rare  among  British  birds,  that  one  can  have  very 
little  opportunity  of  studying  them  in  their  own 
wild  home.  Although  I  spent  nearly  a  week  in  or 
near  their  haunt  I  saw  but  two  birds,  and  only 
caught  a  passing  glance  of  one  of  these.  Of  the 
other  I  had  a  splendid  view,  and  with  my  powerful 
Trieder  binoculars  watched  it  until  only  a  speck 
was  visible  even  through  these.  We  were  standing 
in  a  valley  watching  a  raven  and  two  buzzards, 
when  into  their  midst  there  came,  with  a  charac- 
teristic fine  sweeping  flight,  a  kite.  The  buzzards 
were  soaring,  repeatedly  uttering  their  far-reaching 
call ;  while  the  raven  was  flying  about  somewhat 
lower  down.  The  kite  also  started  upwards,  and 

*  All  lovers  of  birds  will  be  pleased  to  hear  that  last  spring  (1902), 
owing  to  strict  secrecy  being  kept,  a  pair  of  kites  succeeded  in  rearing 
their  two  young,  and  these  left  their  nest  early  in  June.  How  this  was 
accomplished,  and  how  the  nest  was  photographed,  will  I  hope  be  told 
in  a  future  work. 

56 


THE    HOME   OF   THE   KITE  57 

with  delightfully  easy  swoops  was  far  above  the 
other  three  birds.  Then  he  slanted  off  across 
country,  and  with  one  or  two  flaps  of  his  long 
wings  was  far  out  of  sight.  This  is  all  I  have  seen 
of  the  kite ;  but  I  hope  at  some  future  time  to  be 
able  to  say  more  about  him.  I  am  looking  forward 


ANCIENT   HOME   OF    THE    KITE 


to  many  happy  days  more  to  be  spent  in  his  wild 
haunt.  It  is  not  often  one  has  the  good  fortune  to 
see  three  such  rare  species  as  the  kite,  buzzard,  and 
raven,  within  a  few  yards  of  each  other. 

The  accounts  I  received  of  the  persistent  and 
systematic  robbery  of  kites'  nests  were  about  the 
saddest  things  I  have  heard  in  connection  with  our 
rare  British  breeding  birds.  Year  after  year  the  eggs 


58         HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 

are  taken  from  a  certain  locality,  and  the  birds  are 
not  given  the  slightest  chance  of  propagating  their 
species.  In  one  of  the  nests  here  figured  the  kites 
did  succeed  in  rearing  two  young  ones;  but  just 
before  these  were  able  to  fly,  two  prowling  boys,  who 
said  they  were  searching  for  jackdaws'  nests,  un- 
fortunately came  upon  this  one,  and  the  fact  that 
it  was  of  great  size  excited  their  curiosity,  so 
that  one  climbed  up  and  brought  down  the  two 
fledglings.  These  were  taken  home,  and  when  it 
was  discovered  that  they  were  valuable  birds  the 
boys  advertised  them,  and  in  return  for  one  received 
a  bicycle,  while  the  other  young  kite  died  before  it 
could  be  exchanged. 

Another  nest  was  built  near  a  farmhouse.  The 
farmer  was  paid  to  watch  the  nest,  and  barbed  wire 
was  placed  round  the  tree,  but  this,  too,  was  robbed 
by  some  unprincipled  person.  Similar  tales  can  be 
heard  each  year.  A  certain  person,  I  believe  a 
dealer's  agent,  loots  the  nests  every  spring  ;  and  as 
the  birds  build  in  very  much  the  same  locality  year 
after  year,  it  is  an  easy  thing  to  find  them.  What 
a  pity  it  is  that  reliable  watchers  cannot  be  sent  to 
this  locality,  two  for  each  nest,  and  so  give  the  birds 
a  chance.  If  for  a  few  years  reckless  adventurers 
who  rob  every  rare  nest  could  be  kept  at  bay,  the 
kite  might  be  seen  more  frequently  among  the  wild 
hills  of  these  islands.  It  is  a  national  disgrace  that 


60         HILLSIDE,   ROCK,    AND    DALE 

a  bird,  which  was  once  so  common,  should  be  allowed 
to  be  gradually  exterminated.  When  the  last  two 
or  three  pairs,  which  still  each  year  try  to  breed,  dis- 
appear, the  last  will  be  seen  of  our  British  kites. 
Even  now  they  might  practically  be  numbered 
amongst  our  lost  British  birds. 

Long  before  we  reached  the  kite's  breeding  haunt 
the  sloping  hillside  wood  could  be  seen.  As  we 
came  over  a  hill,  one  out  of  many  we  had  trudged 
over,  we  looked  on  one  of  the  finest  views  that  even 
a  county  of  mountains  and  rivers  could  boast  of. 
There  were  two  great  hills  on  before,  with  a  rushing, 
tumbling  stream  between,  winding  in  many  devious 
courses  over  moss-covered  rocks  and  grey  boulders — 
such  a  stream  that  the  dipper  delights  to  haunt.  At 
length  we  reached  the  wood  on  the  steep  hillside. 
It  was  rather  difficult  to  walk  up  the  crumbling,  loose 
surface,  but  eventually  we  reached  the  middle,  and 
there,  nearly  at  the  top  of  a  low  oak  tree,  was  the 
kite's  nest.  It  was  with  no  small  amount  of  admira- 
tion that  I  looked  on  this,  one  of  the  rarest — if  not 
the  rarest — nests  of  our  British  birds.  I  seemed  to 
be  on  enchanted  ground,  there  was  something  so 
novel  and  attractive  in  the  surroundings.  It  was 
not  the  tree  one  would  have  pictured  as  containing 
the  nest,  it  seemed  such  an  insignificant  little  oak  ; 
there  were  others  near  much  taller  and  larger  alto- 
gether, yet  here  in  an  ordinary  tree,  easy  to  climb, 


THE    HOME    OF   THE    KITE 


61 


and  not  more  than  twenty-five  feet  from  the  ground, 
was  the  nest  we  had  longed  to  find.     By  going  up 
the  hill  a  short  distance  it  was  possible  to  look  into 
the    nest,    so 
steep  was   the 

slope.     As  we  | 

approached  the 
wood  a  strange 
bird  -  call  was 
heard,  which 
was,  I  believe, 
the  kite's  note, 
but  it  was  not 
repeated.  The 
wood  itself  was 
like  any  other 
wood.  Dead 
bracken  was 
lying  every- 
where and  hid- 
ing the  loose, 
slaty  accumu- 
lation on  the 
ground. 

A  green  woodpecker  repeatedly  gave  out  his  yaf- 
yaf-yaf.  A  mist  or  fine  rain  was  rapidly  coming  on, 
and  I  was  afraid  it  would  make  photography  im- 
possible; but  fortunately  the  sky  cleared  sufficiently 


KITE  S    NEST 


62         HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 

to  allow  a  series  to  be  taken.  The  green  woodpecker 
always  calls  more  in  wet  weather,  and  on  this 
occasion  he  was  remarkably  noisy.  Another  wood- 
pecker— the  greater  spotted — was  also  heard  in  the 
wood,  and  we  saw  one  flying  overhead.  Jackdaws 
were  calling  all  around,  and  near  by  we  came  upon 
their  breeding  quarters  in  a  slate  cliff.  Through  the 
trees  and  beyond  the  winding  river,  another  steep, 
dome-shaped  hill  loomed  high  before  us,  and  the 
falling  mist  barely  hid  the  reddish  tint  of  the  fallen 
bracken.  The  roar  from  the  many  little  waterfalls  in 
the  river  was  unceasingly  heard,  but  above  the  noise 
from  these  I  heard  a  song,  uttered  low  down  in  the 
valley  —  that  of  a  robin.  The  strains  were  only 
faintly  heard,  and  it  seemed  strange  to  listen  to  the 
song  of  this,  one  of  our  commonest  birds,  in  the 
haunt  of  the  rarest.  There  seemed  to  be  indeed  a 
wide  gap  between  the  two  birds,  one  so  common 
and  the  other  so  extremely  rare.  I  could  not  help 
thinking  of  the  time  when  the  kite  was  common  in 
our  land,  and  it  made  one  wonder  if,  before  it  is  too 
late,  protection  will  be  accorded  this  fast  disappear- 
ing bird,  or  whether  it  will  really  be  allowed  to  be 
exterminated  as  a  breeding  species. 

The  other  nest  I  was  able  to  photograph  was  in  a 
small  larch  wood  on  the  side  of  a  high,  dome-shaped 
hill — one  out  of  many  round  about.  The  larches 
were  surrounded  with  a  few  straggling  oaks,  and 


THE    HOME   OF   THE    KITE 


below  the  trees 
was  the  dipper 
stream.  I  love 
these  streams  ; 
there  seems  to  be 
both  music  and 
mystery  in  the 
sound  of  their 
splashing  waters. 
When  walking 
along  their  banks, 
we  now  and  again 
catch  a  passing 
glimpse  of  the 
dipper.  Before  I 
visited  these  hills 
I  had  never  seen 
this  bird,  and  I 
must  say  the  little 
creature  was  an 
object  of  extreme 
interest ;  he  was 
so  fearless  when 
standing  in  the 
fastest  running 

o 

water,orwhen  near 
the  most  turbulent 
waterfalls,  and  he 


KITE'S  NEST 


64         HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 

seemed  to  belong  to  the  stream  as  much  as  the  trout 
which  swam  in  the  pools.  His  snowy  breast  was  seen 
from  a  great  distance  as  he  "  bobbed "  on  the  grey 
rocks ;  but  as  we  came  nearer,  he  was  off,  ever  follow- 
ing the  winding  course  of  the  water. 


KITE'S  NEST 

The  kite's  nest  in  this  hillside  wood  was  at  the  top 
of  a  fairly  tall  larch  tree.  The  marks  of  the  climbing- 
irons  of  the  fellow  who  took  the  eggs  were  still 
plainly  visible ;  without  the  aid  of  these  it  would 
have  been  difficult  to  reach  the  nest.  Overhead 
buzzards  were  circling,  and  whistling  a  note  some- 
thing like  a  long-drawn  whew ;  and  a  raven  was 
seen.  The  hills  around  were  bare,  and  this  little 


KITE'S  NEST 


66        HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

wood  was  like  an  oasis  in  a  hilly  desert — a  charming 
little  retreat,  just  such  a  place  that  one  would  have 
expected  to  find  the  kite  had  selected  for  a  home. 

I  was  speaking  to  a  gentleman  who  remembered 
the  time  when  kites  were  a  fairly  common  species, 
and  he  told  me  how  he  had  watched  one  on  several 
occasions  fly  down  to  the  river  opposite  his  house 
and  take  goslings  from  the  water.  Would  that  the 
bird  might  once  more  become  as  common,  without 
wishing  harm  to  the  geese.  There  are,  nevertheless, 
plenty  of  farmers  and  landowners  about  who  would 
only  be  too  willing  to  part  with  a  few  goslings  if  once 
again  this  graceful  bird  could  haunt  their  lands. 

It  seems  hopeless  to  look  to  Parliament  to  do  any- 
thing for  our  rarer  breeding  birds.  If  anything  is 
done  it  must  be  done  by  private  effort.  Why  does 
not  someone  with  means  come  forward  and  offer  to 
protect  a  few  of  our  rarest  species?  For  an  inconsider- 
able sum  of  money  it  would  be  possible  to  protect 
the  kite.  Each  nest — three  at  the  very  most — would 
require  two  watchers  for  a  period  of  about  seven 
weeks.  If  anyone  would  supply  funds  I  would  under- 
take to  make  all  necessary  arrangements.  The  kite 
is  not  a  migratory  species ;  it  is  only  at  very  long 
intervals  that  single  birds  are  observed  on  the  east 
coast.  These  are  evidently  wanderers  from  the  con- 
tinent, but  they  are  always  shot  before  they  can  pass 
westward.  It  is  clear  from  this,  that  if  the  few  last 


THE    HOME   OF   THE   KITE  67 

remaining  British  specimens  are  killed,  the  kite  will 
be  gone  for  ever  from  these  islands.  If  the  kite  is 
to  be  protected  it  must  be  done  soon  ;  if  not,  the 
time  is  not  far  distant  when  we  shall  look  upon  this 
noble  species  as  a  lost  British  bird. 


THE    DIPPER'S    HAUNT 


IV 
Sparrow  Town 

FOR  years  the  ivy  on  the  house  has  been  the 
unchallenged  home  of  a  colony  of  sparrows. 
How  many  pairs  there  are  no  census  has  yet  shown  ; 
but  year  in  and  year  out  they  live  and  increase,  in 
spite  of  enemies  by  day  and  night. 

Sparrows  are  like  schoolboys.  We  all  know  how 
at  different  seasons  the  British  boy  introduces  a  new 
game.  One  day  it  is  hoops,  and  then  suddenly  not 
a  Hoop  is  to  be  seen  ;  all  the  talk  is  about  "  alleys  " 
and  "  sixers."  Then,  like  the  hoops,  the  marbles  are 
gone,  and  tops  are  seen  buzzing  through  the  air,  and 
sometimes  through  windows.  So  it  is  with  sparrows. 
With  the  very  first  days  of  spring  sunshine  we  see 
two  males  dash  from  the  house  to  the  ground,  a 
crowd  of  other  sparrows  follow,  all  of  whom  like  to 
see  a  fight  as  much  as  any  schoolboy. 

The  two  birds  now  "  go  for  "  each  other  in  a  most 
desperate  manner.  Feathers  fly  in  all  directions, 
while  the  hen  for  whom  they  are  fighting  sits  in  a 
bush  and  cheers  the  combatants  to  stimulate  courage. 

68 


SPARROW   TOWN  69 

The  crowd  looking  on  cheep  and  chow  their  very 
loudest,  and  hop  excitedly  around,  and  when  at  last 
one  of  the  fighters  lies  panting  on  the  ground,  the 
victor  and  the  mate  he  has  won  hop  to  another  bush, 
and  while  the  hen  sits  on  a  branch,  the  male,  with 
drooping  wings  and  spread  tail,  hops  round  bowing, 
and  at  every  opportunity  trying  to  attract  attention 
in  every  way  he  can.  As  the  hen  does  not  take 
much  notice,  Cock  Sparrow  redoubles  his  efforts  ;  but 
still  the  unresponsive  one  looks  everywhere  but  at 
her  lover.  We  can  imagine  his  thoughts  and  pity 
him.  All  this  fighting,  noise,  and  excitement  was  for 
her ;  but  as  yet  this  is  poor  reward.  He  stops  in  his 
dance  and  looks  again  ;  she  is  innocently  polishing 
her  beak  on  a  branch ! 

Weech-weech)  chow-chow  chow — each  note  uttered  in 
a  louder  key ;  but  still  no  response.  In  desperation 
he  hops  to  the  branch,  looking  the  very  picture  of 
concern,  when  suddenly  he  feels  a  violent  peck  on  his 
back.  At  last,  then,  she  condescends  to  notice  him  ; 
but  in  what  a  rude  way ! 

No  matter,  Cock  Sparrow  is  happy ;  he  begins  his 
rid:culous  dance,  and  again  bows  and  scrapes  before 
her.  This  is  too  much  for  Mrs.  Sparrow  ;  she  flies  to 
a  top  branch  of  an  apple  tree,  but  is  immediately 
followed,  and  again  the  two  descend  to  the  ground, 
and  her  mate  continues  his  expressive  exercises. 

She  can  stand  this  no  longer.     Darting  at  him,  she 


70        HILLSIDE,   ROCK,  AND   DALE 

inflicts  one  or  two  vigorous  pecks ;  but  these  have 
little  effect,  he  takes  them  as  a  lover  might  a  kiss. 
The  enraged  hen  now  catches  hold  of  him  by  the 
scruff  of  the  neck — that  is,  she  holds  a  bunch  of  his 
neck  feathers  in  her  beak — and  actually  swings  him 
round,  then  she  shakes  her  head  violently,  almost 
pulling  the  feathers  out ;  and  poor  Cock  Sparrow  now 
cheeps  and  chows  in  distress,  but  he  is  too  much  in 
love  to  retaliate. 

The  hen  is  evidently  very  angry,  and  after  a  little 
more  punishment,  she  releases  and  hops  round  him, 
"talking"  like  any  angry  woman,  and  no  doubt 
telling  him  not  to  make  a  fool  of  himself,  but  to  get 
on  with  nest -building.  Such  is  a  comical  little 
incident  in  Sparrow  Town  ;  yet  the  most  remarkable 
thing  was  the  meek  way  in  which  the  male  took 
his  correction. 

The  fights  for  the  hens  are  the  first  things  of 
importance  in  Sparrow  Town.  Then,  like  the  school- 
boys' marbles,  they  suddenly  stop,  and  all  is  tranquil. 
Nest-building  now  comes  on  apace.  Birds  are  seen 
on  the  garden  beds,  picking  up  pieces  of  dried  grasses, 
sometimes  as  much  as  they  can  fly  away  with  ;  while 
others  travel  to  and  from  the  fowl-run,  choosing  the 
softest  feathers  and  taking  these  to  the  nest. 

Then  comes  the  time  when  the  eggs  are  laid,  and 
we  see  little  of  the  hens.  But  the  males  show  what 
good  mates  they  are,  for  from  sunrise  to  sunset  they 


SPARROW   TOWN  71 

fly  to  and  fro,  the  majority  having  green  caterpillars 
in  their  beaks,  while  occasionally  the  fare  is  varied 
with  a  short  piece  of  fresh  green  grass. 

At  last  the  young  birds  arrive,  and  what  a  noise 
there  is  !  Hens  make  the  greatest  disturbance  ;  they 
sit  outside  their  nests  and  chatter  for  long  together. 
I  well  remember  one — she  used  to  sit  on  a  fence 
outside  my  study  window,  and  the  noise  she  made 
was  really  phenomenal,  and  time  after  time  she  had 
to  be  driven  away. 

My  favourite  cat  knows  as  well  as  I  do  when 
the  population  of  Sparrow  Town  is  increased  by  new 
arrivals.  There  is  nothing  that  pussy  fancies  more 
than  a  plump  young  sparrow,  and  for  days  together 
she  sits  under  the  ivy,  springing  forward  at  every- 
thing that  falls.  A  large  number  do  fall  from  their 
nests,  and  early  every  morning  Minx  walks  along 
the  path,  sniffing  to  right  and  left,  and  sometimes 
fledglings  are  so  plentiful  that  she  can  swallow  them 
as  though  they  were  oysters.  But  at  length  the  baby 
birds  find  they  have  wings,  and  essay  to  fly  from  the 
ivy  to  the  apple  trees  below. 

Then  begins  another  stage  of  life  and  excitement 
in  Sparrow  Town.  There  is  as  much  fuss,  or  more, 
made  over  a  sparrow's  first  flight,  as  a  mother  makes 
over  the  first  tooth  of  her  child.  We  see  the  young 
sitting  outside  the  nest,  and  when  one  of  the  parents 
approaches  with  a  beakful  of  food  one  of  the  more 


72         HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

venturesome  of  the  brood  jumps  forward  and 
falls. 

The  little  creature  flutters  its  wings  violently,  and 
no  doubt  is  surprised  to  find  it  can  fly.  But  as 
it  descends,  the  parents  fly  by  its  side,  and  with 
the  most  emphatic  calls  and  cries,  try  to  lead  it  to 
some  high  branch ;  for  Minx,  knowing  what  is  going 
on,  makes  ready  to  spring  as  the  young  flier  nears 
the  ground.  A  dozen  sparrows  follow,  and  the  noise 
becomes  deafening ;  but  all  escape  the  cat,  and  the 
fledgling  settles,  panting  and  frightened,  on  a  shaking 
branch,  and  then  presently  follows  its  elders  to 
a  safer  place. 

One  bird  now  feeds  those  remaining  in  the  nest, 
while  the  other  looks  after  the  too  eager  youngster. 
I  always  know  when  a  young  sparrow  has  left  home, 
for  the  noise  made  by  the  other  inhabitants  of 
Sparrow  Town  is  exceeded  alone  by  the  cries  made 
when  a  fight  is  in  progress  during  the  earlier  part 
of  the  season. 

The  last  stage  of  life  in  this  feathered  colony  is 
a  tragical  one — to  the  sparrow.  It  happens  at  night. 
Long  after  all  have  gone  to  roost  there  comes  a 
large  white  bird — a  barn  owl — which  does  not 
approve  of  overcrowding.  He  sits  on  an  outbuilding, 
and  with  his  wide-open,  dreamy  eyes  watches  the 
ivy.  He  may  sit  there  for  an  hour,  he  may  sit 
there  for  only  ten  minutes ;  then  he  silently  sallies 


SPARROW   TOWN  73 

forth,  and  hovers  still  more  silently  in  front  of  the 
house,  about  a  foot  away  from  a  sleeping  sparrow. 

There  is  a  loud  noise,  as  he  seems  to  throw 
himself  among  the  loosely  hanging  leaves ;  a  squeal 
of  a  captured  bird  is  heard,  and  as  the  white  form 
— gliding  away  like  a  ghost — leaves  Sparrow  Town 
for  a  time,  and  is  lost  in  the  darkness  of  night, 
I  know  that  the  population  is  lessened  by  at  least 
one  of  its  noisy  inhabitants. 


The  Pageant  of  the  Seasons 


tfMHj^^        ^T^HE    pageant   begins  with 
.1      music.    The  full  notes  are 
;4<,  I  Ik  tittered  by  a  wren,  perched  on 

i  the    rough    top    of   a    decayed 
post ;     this     is     covered     with 
lichen,  and    green    moss  hangs 
from  its  crumbling  sides.     The 
COAL-TIT  °^    Post,    which    once    marked 

a  part  of  the  boundary  of  the 

now  deserted  wood,  is  weather  -  worn  ;  beetles 
have  bored  their  tunnels  about  it,  and  it  forms 
the  home  of  hundreds  of  other  tiny  insects,  Here 
and  there  the  rotting  wood  has  been  pecked  away, 
showing  where  the  wren  has  been  "digging"  for 
food.  Now  he  sits  and  sings  on  the  top  of  what 
is  a  picturesque  old  post;  ivy  trails  at  its  base, 
and  will  soon  quite  cover  it,  and  altogether  this 
forms  a  fitting  perch  for  this,  almost  the  smallest 
of  birds,  to  open  as  it  were  the  grandest  pageant 
that  man  can  look  upon.  Again  and  again  he  gives 

74 


THE  PAGEANT  OF  THE  SEASONS     75 

out  his  song,  uttered  with  his  tiny  brown  tail  bobbing 
in  unison  with  the  notes,  then  he  stands  still  and 
listens ;  once  more  peers  into  the  crevices  which  have 
already  been  "  worked,"  just  to  see  if  his  keen  little 
eyes  have  missed  any  insects,  then  hops  gaily  on 
his  perch  and  sings  again.  His  song  finished,  he 
flies  to  a  heap  of  faggots  and  for  the  time  is  lost 
to  view. 

The  pageant  has  begun.  The  sun,  for  the  first 
time,  after  the  melting  of  the  snow,  is  rising  to  shed 
his  beams  on  the  country  that  a  mighty  change  is 
to  pass  over.  It  is  a  pale  light  which  first  shines 
on  the  leafless  trees  and  bare  land  ;  but  the  earth 
seems  to  receive  the  slight  warmth  with  gladness, 
while  birds  hail  the  light  and  warmth  with  song ; 
for  others,  on  hearing  the  wren's  notes,  give  forth  their 
own.  Under  the  shadow  of  the  large  trees  the 
morning  air  is  still  chilly  and  seems  still  to  have 
something  left  of  the  touch  of  winter;  but  squirrels 
in  the  higher  branches  seem  already  to  have  for- 
gotten there  has  been  any  hard  winter  weather, 
for  they  play  for  joy  and  jump  from  branch  to 
branch  as  though  this  were  indeed  the  first  spring 
day. 

The  pageant  proceeds  slowly  at  first.  It  is  difficult 
to  realise  that  it  is  moving ;  but  as  days  pass,  little 
flowers  begin  to  open  surely  as  though  they  were 
Nature's  eyes,  for  chickweed  is  first  of  the  coming 


76        HILLSIDE,  ROCK,  AND   DALE 


procession  to  show  its  petals.  On  the  greensward 
of  the  less -frequented  paths,  its  hundreds  of  tiny 
white  flowers,  peeping  from  amongst  a  mass  of 
emerald  green,  tell  us,  in  common  with  the  wren's 
song,  that  spring  is  fast  approaching.  Then  with 
the  increasing  sunshine  comes  the  lesser  celandine. 
This,  the  brightest  of  spring's  first  flowers,  always 
appeals  to  us,  and  each  can  with  the  poet  say:; — 

"  There's  a  flower  that  shall  be  mine, 
Tisthe  little  celandine." 

And  why?  Because  it  is  the  gayest  forerunner  of 
the  fuller  resurrection  from  winter  death  which  is 

yet  to  come.  The 
first  scenes  in  a  great 
pageant  always  attract 
extra  attention,  and 
although  they  may 
be  of  less  account 
compared  with  the 
greater  things  to 
follow,  they  always 
command  the  notice 
of  onlookers  ;  and  so 
it  is  with  the  passing 
of  the  seasons.  The 
wren's  song,  petals 
of  chickweed,  the 
yellow  star-like  discs  of  the  celandine,  and  the  cooing 


COAL-TIT 


THE  PAGEANT  OF  THE  SEASONS     77 


of  the  pigeons  in  the  yews  all  have  their  peculiar 
fascination.  They  are  the  more  welcome  now, 
because  they  are  the  first  harbingers  and  sounds 
of  spring.  A  few 
weeks  hence  the 
woods  will  be  more 
fully  transformed  ; 
the  sky  will  have 
a  deeper  blue ;  but 
nevertheless  we  now 
admire  the  trees  and 
bushes,  although 
they  are  only  tinted 
with  red,  and  as  yet 
wanting  their  fuller 
foliage ;  or  the  sky 
with  the  light  flecks 
of  vapour  floating 

across  the  pale  blue  background.  We  like  to  look 
forward  to  spring,  especially  when  it  is  near.  When  the 
hours  and  days  which  are  all  too  short  have  passed, 
it  seems  such  a  long  time  to  wait  for  the  violet 
flower,  or  the  primrose  to  bloom  once  again.  But 
when  they  are  actually  with  us,  they  seem  ever  to 
impart  to  the  joyous  revival  of  the  countryside  a 
charm  it  did  not  possess  before.  In  the  days  of 
early  spring  we  can  watch  more  closely  the  begin- 
ning of  that  great  struggle  which  is  about  to  take 


COAL-TIT 


78         HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

place  in  Nature.  There  is  a  mystery  more  great 
in  the  coming  on,  and  the  passing  of  the  seasons, 
more  wonderful  than  philosophy  ever  yet  fathomed 
or  properly  interpreted.  But  one  by  one  Nature  is 
disclosing  her  hidden  secrets  to  those  who  would 
know  them,  and  naturalists  who  choose  to  study 
Nature  in  her  own  world  will  see  and  find  out  more 
of  these  mysteries  than  mere  students  of  the  museum 
or  the  study.  Ordinary  observers  look  upon  trees 
and  flowers  and  admire  them  ;  they  listen  to  the 
music  of  birds  and  are  fascinated  ;  the  gambols 
of  the  rabbits,  or  the  playing  of  squirrels  in  the 
pines,  afford  them  entertainment,  but  they  little 
think  of  the  gigantic  forces  which  have  been  at 
work  to  produce  all  of  these  scenes  and  sounds. 
There  is  a  struggle  now  commencing  all  round  so 
powerful  that  few  can  realise,  or  even  imagine  what 
it  all  means.  Every  tree  and  shrub  which  we  see 
around  us  has  grown  at  the  expense  of  its  weaker 
neighbours ;  above  and  beneath  and  all  around, 
wherever  we  fix  our  eyes,  we  cannot  but  notice 
signs  of  the  struggle  in  the  past  and  tokens  of  that 
just  beginning. 

Six  weeks  have  come  and  passed.  I  still  watch 
the  scenes  in  Nature's  pageant  from  the  woods. 
Again  it  is  early  morning,  and  the  wren  is  singing. 
He  is  perched  on  the  same  post  from  which  he  did 
his  part  in  opening  the  pageant,  but  what  a  different 


WREN'S  NEST 


8o        HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

wood  he  now  sings  over !  The  then  bare  wood  is 
now  transformed  into  one  of  pale  yellow.  Primroses 
cover  every  yard  of  surface  just  round  about  where  I 
stand,  while  farther  afield  violets  and  the  "  wind- 
flower"  hold  their  own.  It  is  the  real  awakening  of 
spring,  when  primroses  bloom  and  the  violet  hangs 
its  drooping,  deep  blue  head.  On  the  older  clumps, 
where  the  trees  have  been  cut  down,  primroses  have 
found  a  place  to  grow,  and  all  around  and  about  the 
wren's  old  post  they  gleam  from  a  mass  of  green. 
The  little  brown  bird  sings  louder  and  longer  now. 
In  the  midst  of  his  song  another  wren  appears,  and  in 
her  mouth  is  a  dead  leaf,  with  pieces  of  dust-covered 
cobweb  still  clinging  to  it.  She  just  stops  to  bob  her 
tail,  "  flick "  her  wings,  and  then  disappears  in  a 
thick  bush,  and  is  soon  followed  by  her  singing  mate. 
They  are  building  their  nest,  and  the  male  must 
needs  sing  on  nearly  every  journey  to  and  from  the 
half-finished  home. 

Here  we  may  look  around  on  the  beauties  of 
Nature,  and  note  the  delicate  and  harmonious 
colours  with  which  she  has  painted  the  wood  ;  we 
may  look  above  and  observe  the  young  green 
leaves  fast  opening,  and  beyond  these,  and  con- 
trasting with  them,  the  deeper  blue  of  the  sky.  No 
wonder,  then,  that  the  wren  seems  to  be  inspired 
to  sing.  And  in  the  trees,  amongst  the  highest 
branches,  the  chiffchaff  calls  ;  and  lower  down  willow- 


THE  PAGEANT  OF  THE  SEASONS     81 

wrens  are  chiming.  Woodpeckers  are  at  work  boring 
their  nesting  holes,  and  the  curious  drumming  noise 
which  they  seem  to  use  as  a  call-note  is  constantly 
made.  Many  nests  of  thrushes  already  contain  eggs, 
and  robins  are  busy  building  underneath  the  hedges. 


COAL-TIT 


It  is  when  the  sun  is  sinking  in  the  west  all  of  this 
wonderful  awakening  of  spring  is  more  fully  seen. 
The  evening  is  still,  the  light  wind  is  humming 
through  the  trees — very  different  to  the  moaning  of  a 
winter  day.  In  a  distant  rookery  the  birds  can  be 
heard  squabbling  and  talking  ;  doves  are  cooing  more 
peacefully  in  the  darker  portions  of  the  wood.  Black- 


82         HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 

birds  give  forth  their  pure,  full  notes,  now  from  one 
far-off  corner,  then  from  places  nearer;  then  again 
they  flutter  on,  and  the  interval  between  their  songs 
is  filled  up  by  thrushes.  Honeysuckle  leaves  are 
opening,  and  in  warmer  spots  the  bushes  now  are  as 
green  as  the  hedgeside  banks.  Then  when  we  leave 
the  trees,  the  woodland  sounds  of  spring  seem  to 
fade  into  approaching  night,  and  looking  back,  the 
tall,  dark  spires  of  pines  stand  out  in  sharpest  profile 
against  the  darkening  western  sky.  Little  clouds  of 
humming  gnats  or  midges  are  also  out  around  our 
head,  and  if  we  look  along  the  hedge,  these  thousands 
of  flies  look  like  smoke  rising  from  the  branches. 
Above,  the  evening  star  is  seen  bright  and  peaceful, 
and  so  the  day  dies,  and  all  things  seem  to  be  at  rest, 
the  busy  day  now  being  followed  by  the  soft  and 
sweet  hush  of  eventide  in  early  spring. 

The  pageant  is  now  at  its  height.  I  wander  into 
an  orchard,  and  there  see  the  great  sight  in  all  its 
fresh  attractions.  Acres  of  blossom  covered  trees 
are  here,  seeming  to  be  overburdened  with  a  pro- 
fusion of  white  petals.  Thousands  of  insects  are 
unconsciously  fertilising  the  flowers,  and  hundreds  of 
birds  are  feeding  on  the  insects.  There  is  quite  a 
babel  of  bird-music,  all  the  notes  being  so  full  of  the 
happiness  which  spring  brings  in  its  train,  that  I 
would  not  have  one  less.  For  perfect  music  let  us 
choose  the  songs  of  birds,  when  heard  now  among 


THE  PAGEANT  OF  THE  SEASONS  83 

the  flowers  and  leaves  of  all -conquering  spring. 
These  may  well  fascinate  us  in  a  way  not  to  be 
described.  Look  on  the  scene  spreading  before  us. 
A  blackcap  is  on  a  spray  of  blossom  ;  he  hops  to 
another  branch,  and  knocks  some  petals  down  on  his 
short  journey ;  these  float  slowly  down,  and  find  a 
resting-place  on  the  ground.  If  we  look  up  the  rows 
of  trees  there  is  a  continual  shower  of  these  petals, 
and  birds  cause  myriads  of  them  to  fall.  The  black- 
cap sings,  with  raised  crest,  and  after  the  notes  he 
snatches  a  caterpillar  here,  then  "  hawks "  for  a  fly, 
and  sings  merrily  again.  The  blackcap  is  to  the 
woods  by  day  what  the  nightingale  is  to  them  at 
night.  His  loud,  wild  notes  seem  in  perfect  harmony 
with  spring  sunshine  and  the  may-blossom  growing 
in  such  profusion  over  the  rippling  brook.  There  is 
a  sweetness  in  his  song  which  speaks  of  brightness, 
and  the  day  seems  gayest  when  he  is  singing.  At 
evening  the  nightingale  gives  out  his  passionate 
song,  and  we  love  to  listen  amongst  such  still,  dark 
surroundings  ;  a  wood  without  a  nightingale  would 
be  like  a  meadow  bare  of  flowers.  But  give  me  the 
blackcap  by  day,  his  song  seems  to  be  so  altogether 
associated  with  sunshine  and  flowers.  Imagine  a 
spring  without  a  blackcap's  song,  or  the  hawthorn 
bushes  white  with  may  without  the  warblers,  each 
would  have  a  chief  charm  missing. 

From  the  orchard  I  go  to  the  meadows ;  for  there 


84         HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 


BLUE-TIT 


I  see  the  spring  pageant 
in  another  phase  of  its 
glory.  Over  the  broad 
expanse  of  golden  but- 
tercups butterflies  are 
flitting,  and  whinchats 
are  calling  as  they  sway 
to  and  fro  on  the  tall, 
slender  grass  stems. 

Higher  aloft  still,  the 
skylark  loudly  sings  his 
song,  and  I  must  stop 

to  find  him.  At  length  he  is  seen — a  dot  in  the 
limitless  expanse  of  blue ;  but  though  so  small  he 
floods  the  meadows  with  music,  which  is  one  of 
the  dearest  sounds  of  the  country.  The  young 

green  trees,  the  bushes 
and  flowers,  seem,  as  it 
were,  to  respond  to  his 
notes  of  love,  and  to 
give  out  music  of  their 
own.  It  is  real  enjoy- 
ment to  lie  among  the 
buttercups  and  to  watch 
the  varied  life  of  this 
fresh  spring  day.  The 
hours  spent  in  commu- 
BLUE-TIT  ning  with  Nature  and 


THE  PAGEANT  OF  THE  SEASONS  85 

trying  to  understand  her  teachings  are  the  happiest 
of  a  naturalist's  life.  In  the  hawthorn  bush  there 
is  now  a  rustling,  and  a  bullfinch  half  shows  him- 
self—  a  tinge  of  red  amongst  the  white  may. 
His  breast  can  be  seen  swelling  as  he  "pipes"; 
the  wind  sends  a  hanging  spray  of  blossom  between 
us,  and  when  this  moves  he  is  gone.  The  fields  now 
resemble  a  cloth  of  yellow,  although  in  corners  and 
on  the  greensward  bordering  hedges  there  are  patches 
of  veronica,  which  in  their  simple  beauty  outshine  all 
other  spring  flowers  at  this  time.  These  are  half 
hidden  among  the  shorter  nettles  and  grasses,  and 
their  tiny  deep  blue  faces  seem  to  welcome  the  sun- 
beams. I  love  the  germander  speedwell  above  all 
wild  flowers  ;  there  is  a  beauty  in  this  veronica  that 
no  one  could  pass  over. 

When  the  days  of  spring  gradually  fade  into 
the  longer  hours  of  sunshine  of  summer,  we  notice 
it  less  than  the  beginning  or  end  of  any  other 
season.  There  is  no  awakening  as  in  the  early 
days  of  spring,  or  any  fading  beauty  like  that  of 
dying  summer,  when  the  autumn  trees  are  clothed 
in  golden-coloured  foliage.  And  there  is  no  feeling 
of  sorrow  such  as  passes  over  us  when  we  see  the 
last  of  the  falling  leaves,  or  listen  to  the  farewell 
twitter  of  a  solitary  swallow.  No  ;  spring  glides  into 
summer,  all  things  being  in  harmony. 

The  first  wild  rose  of  summer,  high  up  over  the 


86        HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

bush,  showing  itself  from  a  bunch  of  buds  on  a  hang- 
ing spray,  always  seems  to  be  a  token  that  summer 
is  here.  I  do  not  like  to  pick  the  first  of  the  roses ; 
let  them  speak  to  others  as  they  do  to  me.  It  is  a 
great  grievance  to  rob  the  countryside  of  all  its  wild 
flowers  ;  pick  one  here,  and  another  there,  and  no 
one  will  see  the  gap.  Some  of  the  flowers  in  the 
nearer  suburbs  of  London  are  gone  almost  before  the 
buds  are  fully  open.  In  the  early  spring  I  always 
know  where  to  find  a  patch  of  lovely  violets  ;  being 
known  to  no  one  else,  it  is  a  delight  to  see  them 
growing  until  the  grasses  rise  up  and  hide  them. 

The  moving  pageant  is  again  seen  by  the  stream. 
Trees  fringe  the  low  and  rough  banks  ;  here  and 
there  are  bushes  with  one  or  two  roses  hanging  low 
down  over  the  water.  It  is  a  delightful  little  stream ; 
just  here  it  forms  a  pool  of  clear,  sparkling  water; 
a  few  yards  farther  up  miniature  waterfalls  and  tiny 
cascades  are  in  keeping  with  moss-covered  stones. 
As  one  wanders  on,  small  torrents  run  through 
narrower  channels,  widening  again  to  another  pool, 
and  yet  more  falls,  where  the  water  as  it  drops 
makes  summer  music.  A  magpie  darts  from  her 
nest  in  a  low  tree ;  finches  drinking  at  a  pool  are 
startled  ;  some  sparrows  fly  up,  but  soon  return  to 
their  splashing  baths.  I  like  to  see  a  sparrow  bathe  ; 
he  seems  to  so  enjoy  the  water ;  and  then,  when 
thoroughly  soaked,  he  sits  on  a  low  branch,  flutters 


88        HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

his  wings,  and  cheeps  and  chows  to  himself  in  such 
a  contented  style,  and  at  length  when  nearly  dry 
enters  the  water  again.  A  cuckoo  silently  settles  in 
the  trees  above,  and  calls  many  times,  "  laughing " 
between  every  few  notes.  The  magpie  returns,  flies 
round  the  trees,  then  alights  in  a  tall  ash.  Swallows 
dart  up  and  down  above  the  water,  sometimes  "dip- 
ping" when  taking  a  fly.  Their  nests  are  under  the 
old  rustic  bridge,  and  by  the  side  of  this,  in  a  hole  in 
the  ground,  a  pair  of  coal-tits  have  a  nest ;  we  care- 
fully lift  a  patch  of  grass,  and  find  it  full  of  hungry 
young  birds,  with  beaks  wide  open,  all  clamouring 
for  food.  Some  angry  notes  are  uttered  by  the 
mother  bird  hard  by,  and  we  replace  the  turf  and 
proceed  up  the  stream.  Beck^  beck>  calls  a  frightened 
moor-hen,  while  her  little  black  brood  scramble  up 
the  banks,  and  when  all  are  concealed  behind  stones 
or  under  bushes,  she  swims  underneath  a  thick  bush 
where  the  wild  rose  branches  dip  into  the  stream. 
Water-voles — the  beavers  of  our  English  streams — 
are  seen  sitting  on  the  banks ;  they  stare  well  at 
any  intruder,  and  seem  surprised  to  be  disturbed, 
for  few  people  wander  along  this  secluded  Hampshire 
brook.  Running  as  it  does  through  that  great  tract 
of  moor  and  woodland  the  New  Forest,  it  is  as 
unfrequented  as  some  of  the  delightful  "  dipper " 
streams  of  the  north. 

A   flash   of    green    darts   by,    then    another,    and 


THE  PAGEANT  OF  THE  SEASONS      89 

another,  these  being  followed  by  three  more  of 
brightest  blue,  dazzling  and  changing  colour  as  this 
family  of  kingfishers  skim  on  round  the  turn.  I 
follow  as  silently  as  possible,  a  difficult  matter  where 
one  has  to  make  a  path  through  the  underwood. 
I  peep  round  the  curve  and  see  a  shaking  branch 
which  the  birds  have  just  left ;  it  strikes  the  water 
as  it  trembles,  making  little  ripples.  By  still  pushing 
on  I  am  fortunate  to  see  the  brilliant-pi umaged  birds 
sitting  on  twigs  by  the  water's  edge ;  they  see  me, 
however,  and  double  back  down  the  stream.  King- 
fishers if  followed  will  nearly  always  try  to  dart  back 
unobserved  to  the  place  from  where  they  were  first 
seen.  I  am  able  to  get  close  several  times,  but  the 
watchful  old  birds,  when  once  disturbed,  are  shy,  and 
leave,  always  followed  by  their  young,  flying  up  or 
down  stream  in  single  file,  making  the  clear  brook 
more  attractive  by  their  presence,  while  the  sense 
of  solitude  is  more  complete.  For  where  we  find 
the  kingfisher,  there  Nature  is  commonly  undis- 
turbed. A  kingfisher  will  return  to  the  same  perch 
day  after  day,  and  if  once  this  is  discovered,  an 
observer  has  only  to  sit  on  the  stream-side  and  wait. 
There  is  no  necessity  to  be  concealed,  as  I  have  proved 
many  times,  perfect  stillness  being  all  that  is  neces- 
sary, and  in  this  way  I  have  had  these  brilliant  birds 
within  three  yards  of  me,  and  on  one  occasion  even 
less  than  a  yard  intervened. 


90        HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 


Here  the  stream  broadens  out,  and  "near  the"  banks 
water-ranunculus  is  in  full  flower.  The  petals  and 
leaves  are  disturbed  as  a  tiny  fish,  basking  in  the 
sunbeams  which  penetrate  the  leafy  trees,  darts  away, 
frightened  by  our  shadow  falling  on  the  water.  Two 

young  water  -  voles 
dive  from  the  opposite 
bank,  and  a  water- 
hen  calls  ;  a  sable 
blackbird  flies  away 
uttering  a  loud  chat- 
ter, surprised  while 
I  drinking  in  a  crystal 
•  pool  formed  by  the 
/  water  dripping  into  a 
shallow  basin  of  clay; 
and  some  squirrels 
farther  from  the  bank 
dart  up  a  tree  as 
the  blackbird  flies 
past.  The  vegetation  on  the  opposite  bank 'moves; 
a  rustle,  and  a  weasel  appears,  the  lithe,  arch-backed 
little  cannibal  sniffs  the  flowers,  and  then  the  ground 
as  he  slowly  passes  on.  We  notice  he  is  in  a  vole's 
track,  or  well-trodden  pathway,  and  we  pity  the  vole, 
for  we  well  know  what  his  fate  will  be.  But  to 
follow  this  stream  to  its  source  would  occupy  too 
much  time,  and  if  I  dwell  on  one  part  of  this 


COAL-TIT 


THE  PAGEANT  OF  THE  SEASONS     91 

pageant  of  Nature  long,  the  reader  will  tire.  We 
must  try  to  imagine  the  scenes  that  would  pass 
before  us  if  we  tracked  this  rtvulet  to  the  distant 
spring  whence  comes  its  supply  of  crystal  water. 
There  is  something  in  a  stream  like  this  which  seems 
to  fascinate  the  farther  we  follow  it,  and  as  its  banks 
lessen  in  width,  the  flowers,  birds,  and  rippling 
bubbles  seem  to  speak  of  deeper  mysteries. 

"There's  something  in  that  ancient  superstition, 
Which,  erring  as  it  is,  our  fancy  loves. 
The  spring  that,  with  its  thousand  crystal  bubbles, 
Bursts  from  the  bosom  of  some  desert  rock 
In  secret  solitude,  may  well  be  deem'd 
The  haunt  of  something  purer,  more  refined, 
And  mightier  than  ourselves." 

So  let  us  leave  the  happiness  of  the  birds,  the  soft 
sound  of  water  under  woodland  trees,  and  the  fulness 
of  life  everywhere,  and  pass  on. 

In  the  sultry  days  of  July  the  birds  cease  their 
songs.  By  the  middle  of  the  month  the  woods  and 
orchards,  which  four  weeks  ago  were  filled  with  a 
chorus  of  happy  music,  are  now  almost  silent,  and 
with  the  exception  of  a  few  robins  no  bird-notes  are 
to  be  heard.  Come  into  the  meadows,  however,  and 
see  the  profusion  of  flowers  which  are  here.  What 
we  have  lost  in  song  is  now  made  up  in  a  rich  supply 
of  wild  flowers.  The  roadsides  are  covered  with  a 
chequered  carpet  of  growths  as  brilliant  and  as 


92         HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 


fragrant  as  sunbeams  and  showers  can  make  them. 
In  the  shade  we  may  rest  and  enjoy  the  varied  out- 
look. Dragon  -  flies,  with  wings  that  glisten  like 
bronze  and  gold,  poise  themselves  a  moment,  and 

then  are  gone.  The  meadow 
is  enlivened  with  the  calls 
of  grasshoppers,  and  on  the 
taller  grasses  blue  butterflies 
are  resting.  Burnets,  gay  in 
their  suits  of  metallic  green 
and  crimson  bodies,  fly  with 
heavy  flight  from  flower  to 
flower,  and  small  heaths  and 
copper  butterflies  flit  among 
the  lower  grass  stems.  At 
the  end  of  this  month  the 
pageant  seems  as  it  were  to 
stand  still ;  there  is  a  pause 
— a  gap  between  summer 
and  approaching  autumn. 

In  a  distant  wood,  a  tree 
— I  think  it  is  a  silver  poplar 
• — stands  out  high  above  the 

others.  When  the  sun  is  setting,  this  tree  throws  a  long 
shadow  across  the  green  tops  of  lesser  trees,  and  as 
this  slowly  lengthens,  we  can  realise  that  summer  is 
passing,  though  slowly.  With  the  last  beams  of  the 
departing  sun,  the  shadow  is  gone,  and  we  watch 


SMALL   HEATH   BUTTERFLY 


THE  PAGEANT  OF  THE  SEASONS     93 

another  day  come  to  its  close.  And  so  the  days  — 
the  shadows  of  the  year — creep  on  with  their  regular 
and  certain  pace,  and  with  them  pass  the  seasons. 

August,  the  month  of  harvest,  is  with  us ;  the 
evenings  are  now 
the  best  of  the 
year,  for  at  reaping- 
time  we  see  some 
of  the  best  sunsets 
of  the  whole  year. 
I  think  the  human 
mind  can  be 
brought  into  closest 
touch  with  Nature's 
God  when  looking 
on  a  fine  sunset. 
There  seems  to  be 
a  connecting  -  link 
between  us  and^the 
higher  life  when 

LARGE    WHITE   BUTTERFIA 

the  sun  goes  down 

amongst  the  most  beautiful  or  most  sublime  of 
Nature's  surroundings.  There  is  such  a  calmness 
in  a  harvest  sunset,  so  unlike  the  wild  grandeur 
of  a  stormy  winter  sky  at  evening,  when  the  torn, 
straggling  clouds  seem,  as  it  were,  like  smoke  rising 
from  a  heap  of  fire  in  the  west,  driven  with  such 
rapidity  towards  the  zenith.  Why  is  it  that  a 


94         HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 

summer  sunset  is  more  impressive  than  a  sunrise? 
Is  it  because  it  leaves  behind  all  the  most  attractive 
things  of  day?  Before  us  are  many  broad  acres  of 
cornfields,  some  cut  and  already  red  with  waving 


NUTHATCH 


poppies;  swallows  are  flying  over  the  shocks;  while 
in  the  distance  the  ranges  of  low  hills  are  yellow 
with  standing  crops  ;  but  these  are  almost  hidden 
by  the  blue  mist  of  summer  heat,  the  whole  making 
a  great  picture  of  Nature's  beauty  and  wonderful 


THE  PAGEANT  OF  THE  SEASONS     95 

resources.  In  addition  to  the  soft  music  of  this 
harvest  evening,  the  sun  goes  from  our  view  accom- 
panied by  a  pageant  of  many-coloured  August 
clouds.  Could  anyone  look  upon  such  a  picture  of 
concord  without  being  fascinated?  When  I  look 
upon  the  sublime  in  Nature  my  mind  seems  to  be 
lifted  higher  than  earth ;  the  scene  almost  becomes 
a  vision  of  Paradise.  The  sinking  sun  may  at  times 
affect  our  inmost  soul  more  than  any  other  of 
Nature's  phenomena.  A  sunset  awakens  many 
sweet  memories  in  the  mind  ;  we  think  of  things 
which  are  past,  and  to  hours  spent  with  Nature, 
which  have  always  given  enjoyment. 

But  to  return  to  the  cornfields.  On  a  fence  at 
my  side  there  sits  a  baby  spotted  flycatcher ;  it  calls 
many  times,  and  shakes  it  wings,  then  its  mother 
appears,  and  in  her  beak  is  a  number  of  flies,  which 
are  given  to  the  youngster,  its  little  body  being 
agitated  with  pleasure.  Although  I  am  only  four 
feet  distant,  the  parent  soon  returns,  and  again  gives 
the  young  bird  more  food.  Screaming  swifts,  look- 
ing like  crescent-feathered  darts,  skim  across  from 
hamlet  to  cornfield,  now  nearly  out  of  sight  in  the 
pale  blue  vault  of  heaven,  and  again  almost  touching 
the  yellow  sheaves  in  their  downward  swoop.  A 
solitary  hare  sits  near  the  margin  of  the  uncut  corn, 
then  runs  in  along  his  own  made  pathway.  Swal- 
lows twitter,  and  yellow-hammers  sing  from  tele- 


96         HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 

graph  wires  over  the  road.  Underneath  these,  hedges 
are  festooned  with  wild  clematis  ;  nodding  harebells 
and  field  scabious  give  the  lane  a  border  of  two 
distinct  tints  of  blue,  intermingled  with  the  brilliant 
scarlet  spots  of  straggling  poppies.  But  as  the  twilight 
of  August  slowly  fades  into  the  serene  quietness  of 

night,  the  birds  stop  their 
songs — seemingly  reluct- 
antly— and  the  colours  of 
flowers  are  lost  in  the 
gloom  of  darkening  night. 
An  August  night  is  as 

,::^p»7«       -,_  interesting    as    the    day, 

wyfl  •  however.      Especially    is 

•f  this  the  case  in  cornfields. 

/k^"          **  TU  i  r  11 

These  places  give  a  full 

supply  of  food  to  numbers 
of  rodents,  and  also  attract 
as  many  owls  in  the  night 
as  they  do  kestrels  and 
sparrow  -  hawks  during 
the  day.  Barn-owls  may  often  be  seen  on  moonlit 
nights  sitting  on  corn  shocks  waiting  for  mice ;  and 
anyone  who  waits  at  such  a  time  will  hear  many  a 
dying  cry  of  some  small  animal,  the  only  intimation 
that  comes  of  these  nocturnal  tragedies  in  the  fields. 

Before  the  last  of  the  sheaves  are  gathered  in  the 
trees  assume  touches  of  autumn's  colour,  only  a  leaf 


NUTHATCH 


THE  PAGEANT  OF  THE  SEASONS      97 

tinted  yellow  here  and  another  touched  with  spots  of 
crimson,  but  still  enough  to  tell  us  that  the  pageant 
of  the  seasons  is  still  on  the  move  and  soon  will  pass. 
There  is  now  a  fresh  keenness  in  the  early  morning 
air  of  autumn  which  makes  us  think  of  our  guns  and 
dogs.  Two  coveys  of  partridges  rise  near  and  join, 
and  enter  a  distant  turnip  field  together.  The  heavy 
mists  of  evening  become  denser  during  the  night, 
and  now  soon  after  sunrise  the  distant  trees  are 
hidden  and  those  nearer  have  a  misty  appearance. 
Not  a  leaf  is  moving.  The  heavy  autumn  dew 
covers  grass  blades  and  flowers  with  myriads  of 
sparkling  dewdrops  "  far  brighter  than  pearls " ; 
butterflies,  bees,  and  other  insects  are  bedewed  with 
tiny  drops  of  water.  Where  the  sunshine  falls  on 
fences,  gates,  and  tree-trunks  insects  are  seen  crawling 
and  basking  in  the  warmth,  being  awakened  out  of 
a  stupor  which,  if  the  weather  had  been  colder, 
would  have  meant  death.  As  we  walk  towards  the 
lake  with  the  sun  behind  there  seems  to  be  a  halo 
of  diamonds  round  our  shadow  on  the  grass ;  this 
is  more  apparent  while  we  move,  the  dewdrops 
nearest  the  shadow  seem  to  throw  off  a  brighter 
lustre  for  a  moment,  then  a  grass  blade  here  and 
there  seems  to  be  studded  with  gems  more  brilliant 
than  genuine  stones.  Move  ever  so  slightly  and  the 
colour  is  gone  and  cannot  be  seen  again.  Near  the 
lake-side,  clumps  of  candle  rush  all  have  a  spider's 


98         HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

web  woven  in  them,  and  these  show  now  that  the 
morning  dew  is  brightened  by  the  sun.  At  the 
end  of  the  lake  a  weeping-willow,  almost  hidden  in 
the  autumn  mist,  droops  over  the  still  water.  If  we 
hide  here  and  wait  for  the  mists  to  rise  we  shall  see 
more  of  bird  life  than  in  the  fields.  As  we  near  our 
place  of  shelter  we  come  unexpectedly  upon  a  herd 
of  deer ;  they  just  look  in  our  direction  and  then 
scamper  away  out  of  view.  When  the  sun  reaches 
his  zenith  we  can  see  right  across  the  lake,  and  all 
but  the  far  distance  is  misty.  The  deer,  now  resting 
under  the  shade  of  trees,  can  also  be  seen  reflected 
in  the  water ;  for  the  surface  is  like  a  mirror,  only 
disturbed  as  a  gleaming  silver  fish  jumps  out,  or  when 
the  water-birds  loudly  paddle  and  splash  near  the 
edge  of  the  reed-fringed  shore.  Now  round  about 
the  willow  there  is  a  movement,  and  out  swims  a 
duck.  Slowly  she  proceeds  down  the  lake,  leaving 
behind  a  track  of  ripples  in  the  shape  of  the  letter 
V,  ever  widening,  until  the  ends  touch  each  shore. 
Others  join  her,  and  then  all  engage  together  in  a 
merry  splashing  and  loud  quacking.  On  the  opposite 
banks  seven  moor-hens  are  leisurely  feeding.  Some  are 
resting  on  the  dusty  ground  ;  for  although  the  dews 
are  so  heavy  the  ground  seems  to  remain  dry.  There 
is  this  difference  between  the  dew  of  autumn  and 
that  of  earlier  summer ;  the  latter  rises  out  of  the 
ground  and  saturates  the  lower  parts  of  the  plants 


ioo       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

and  roots  with  a  moisture  which  in  its  effect  is  as  good 
as  a  shower  of  rain.  The  dew  of  autumn  is  caused 
largely  by  the  water-charged  atmosphere  condensing 
on  the  leaves  and  grasses.  If  we  notice  the  ground 
underneath  the  plants,  and  indeed  almost  anywhere,  it 
will  be  found  to  be  dry,  with  the  exception  of  the  top 
layer  of  dust,  and  even  this  is  generally  also  dry.  The 
moor-hens  sit  down  and  work  a  slight  hollow  in  the 
ground,  very  much  after  the  style  of  a  sparrow  when 
having  a  dust-bath ;  there  they  sit  and  lazily  gaze 
about  with  half-closed  eyes,  rejoicing  in  the  sun's 
warmth.  One  will  occasionally  rise,  pick  up  an 
insect  or  worm  which  has  approached  too  near  for  its 
safety  to  be  ensured,  and  then  returns  to  the  resting- 
place.  Another  water-hen  leaves  the  lake,  flutters  up 
the  bank,  and  is  no  sooner  there  than  she  is  attacked 
by  one  of  her  own  species.  Round  and  round  they 
go,  repeatedly  striking  and  sparring  at  each  other. 
Now  they  stand  a  yard  apart  with  wings  slightly 
opened,  and  head  and  neck  laid  on  the  ground,  but 
always  facing  one  another.  Again  they  dash  at  each 
other,  then  one  turns  round  and  swiftly  runs  away. 

The  loud  note  of  a  goose,  kee-wonk,  is  heard  from 
the  distant  end  of  the  lake,  and  reminds  us  of  nights 
spent  on  the  mud  flats  of  the  coast,  where  the  deep 
roar  of  the  punt-gun  and  the  lesser  reports  of  breech- 
loaders rouse  the  night-feeding  birds,  whose  notes, 
uttered  while  they  fly  in  the  light  of  the  winter  moon, 


THE  PAGEANT  OF  THE  SEASONS    101 

slowly  die  away,  until  the  long  string  of  geese  be- 
comes lost  in  the  gloom  of  night.  These  memories 
of  sights  and  sounds  are  dear  to  all  sportsmen.  Kee- 
wonk  again,  and  two  great  birds  leave  the  water, 
circle  round,  and  are  soon  far  away  and  disappear  in 


COAL-TIT.      SEEING  ! 

the  mists  of  autumn.  Among  the  water-hens  is  a 
smaller  bird,  and  through  my  field-glass  this  is  seen 
to  be  a  water-rail.  It  does  not  wander  far  from  the 
reeds,  and  at  the  slightest  sign  of  danger  quickly 
runs  to  shelter.  A  herd  of  deer  is  resting  under 
the  larger  oaks  feeding  on  acorns,  which  the  fitful 
breeze  occasionally  causes  to  fall.  This  is  a  curious 


102       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

phenomenon  ;  one  tree  alone  is  disturbed  among  a 
number  of  others.  I  have  seen  this  happen  in  a 
wood.  A  tree  surrounded  with  others  will  suddenly 
show  its  branches  to  be  moving,  this  being  caused  by 
a  breeze  which  affects  this  one  only,  while  those 
around  are  still.  Acorns,  leaves,  and  large  drops  of 
water  fall  as  single  trees  are  moved  by  this  local 
wind.  Rabbits  stand  up  and  listen,  and  some  run 
to  their  holes.  One  bolts  full  speed  along  the  lake- 
side, seeming  to  bounce  from  mound  to  mound  in  its 
wild  scamper.  The  still  surface  of  the  water  here 
and  there  shows  ripples  as  the  curious  local  wind 
passes  over  it.  This  is  a  very  fine  lake  from  a  bird- 
lover's  point  of  view ;  throughout  the  year  there  are 
always  interesting  phases  of  bird  life  here,  however 
bare  the  woods  or  fields  may  be.  Although  within 
nine  miles  of  London,  we  have  had  ospreys  here. 
Not  very  many  years  ago  a  pair  of  these  extremely 
rare  birds  visited  this  lake  and  stayed  for  a  period  of 
three  weeks.  Many  a  rare  bird  now  often  stays  to 
feed  here,  but  soon  passes  on.  There  is  only  one 
thing  which  takes  away  much  of  the  charm  of  such 
a  spot,  and  that  is  the  roar  of  London,  which  is 
nearly  always  heard. 

I  leave  the  lake  and  go  among  the  bracken  in  the 
wood.  The  September  sun,  in  the  sheltered  path- 
way, beats  down  with  scorching  heat,  making  last 
year's  dead  oak  leaves,  which  strew  the  ground, 


THE  PAGEANT  OF  THE  SEASONS    103 


crackle   as    the    hot   rays  cause  them   to   contract. 
Falling  acorns,  as  they  come  down,  sink  deep  among 
these  dry  leaves.     Being  hidden,  they  have  a  chance 
of  germinating,  for  they  may  escape  the  notice  of 
pigeons  or  squirrels.     Everywhere  all  is  still,  like  a 
day  in  early  spring ;  but  trees,  tinged  here  and  there 
with  touches  of  pale 
yellow,  show  us  that 
the  time  of  the  going 
of  the  swallows  is  at 
hand.  A  small  copper 
butterfly,  glad  to  have 
shelter  and  heat,  flits 
merrily  between    the 
avenues      of      tall 
bracken,   and   is   lost 
among  the  trees.  Jays 
are  screeching  loudly 
in  trees  near  where  I 
sit ;    one,    which    ap- 
proached closely  and 

then  gave  out  his  harsh  note,  was  even  startlingly 
interesting.  In  the  meadow  beyond  the  hedge  a 
male  pheasant  is  proudly  going  about,  followed  by 
two  hens,  little  thinking  that  he  has  not  much  longer 
to  wander  in  this  attractive  wood  ;  for  the  first  of 
October  is  drawing  near. 

A  large  nest  of  ants  is  close  at  hand ;  the  busy 


COAL-TIT.       SMELLING  ! 


io4       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 

little  people  are  hurrying  backwards  and  forwards, 
those  going  towards  the  nest  have  burdens,  such 
as  small  flies,  beetles,  pieces  of  larger  flies,  etc.  One 
is  carrying  another  ant ;  the  prisoner  struggles,  but 
is  held  fast,  and  others  follow  with  more  captives. 
These  have  been  out  to  wage  war  against  another 
colony  and  are  returning  victorious.  Wasps  are 
hovering  over  the  victors,  and  now  and  then  pounce 
on  one  and  carry  it  off  to  feed  the  young  larvae  in 
their  own  nest.  Another  butterfly  dances,  as  it  were, 
along  the  bracken-fringed  path,  and  flutters  over 
the  hedge.  Woodpeckers  are  calling  all  around  ; 
for  this  wood  is  a  favourite  retreat,  and  the  lesser 
spotted  species  is  increasing  here.  Two  kinds  of 
dragon-flies  are  darting  up  and  down  the  path,  ever 
and  anon  settling  on  the  stems  or  leaves  of  young 
oak  trees — they  seem  to  prefer  these  for  some  reason. 
They  watch  all  passing  insects  from  their  coign  of 
vantage,  and  then  dart  at  one,  pick  it  up.  and  return  to 
another  halting-place.  A  hornet  with  a  deep  hum 
also  hovers  near  me,  watching  its  prey,  but  the  next 
moment  goes  beyond  the  wood.  Up  a  bracken 
stalk  a  yellow  underwing  moth  slowly  crawls ;  I  only 
just  touch  the  fern  and  it  drops  down  and  feigns 
death  for  nearly  half  an  hour ;  then  it  rises,  and 
settles  high  up  on  an  oak  branch. 

There  is   a  curious  noise  behind   me—ceuff  ceuff, 
and  on  turning  round  I  see  two  inquisitive-looking 


THE  PAGEANT  OF  THE  SEASONS    105 

little  eyes  peering  through  the  oak  leaves.  Ceuff, 
ceuff,  and  the  squirrel  jumps  on  to  a  thicker  branch 
near  and  "  whisks "  his  tail  violently  from  side  to 
side.  He  "barks"  again,  and  jumps  up  about  two 
feet,  and  alights  in  the 
same  place,  twists  his 
little  head,  and  jumps 
once  more  in  playful 
ardour,  and  approaches 
still  nearer.  He  evidently 
cannot  quite  make  out 
what  the  strange  big 
creature  among  the 
bracken  is,  for  I  keep  per- 
fectly motionless.  Now 
he  looks  at  me,  runs  back 
a  few  paces  and  returns, 
still  calling  and  moving 
his  tail.  But  he  has  no 
more  time  to  waste  in 
looking  at  any  intruder, 
for  he  is  collecting  winter 

stores.  An  acorn  is  picked,  and  sitting  up,  he 
arranges  it  in  his  mouth  with  his  front  feet,  and  then 
runs  along  and  jumps  like  a  puff  of  air  from  branch 
to  tree;  and  then  taking  an  extra  long  jump  he  lands 
with  a  crash  in  a  holly  bush  below,  but  emerges  safely 
on  the  other  side,  deposits  his  acorn  in  his  store  place, 


BLUE-TIT.      TASTING  ! 


io6      HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

and  returns  for  another ;  still  he  cannot  quite  com- 
prehend the  big  stranger,  and  thus  stops  to  look 
in  my  direction  every  few  minutes. 

Before  the  dews  of  morning  are  dried  from  the 
grasses,  evening  mists  float  slowly  down,  and  again 
begin  to  condense  on  them.  During  these  silent 
days  of  autumn  the  grass  is  never  dry,  and  mist 
follows  mist  in  quick  succession,  floating  away  with 
the  sun,  and  falling  again  when  evening  comes  on. 
And  so  the  pageant  of  autumn  slowly  passes ;  but 
each  evening  mist,  and  every  falling  leaf,  tells  us 
that  a  great  change  is  near ;  we  cannot  now  think 
of  the  end,  however,  for  the  bracken  is  still  green, 
the  tall  elms  are  not  yet  tinted  with  yellow,  and 
overhead  skims  a  swallow.  While  he  flies  the  days 
are  fair;  and  as  he  circles  over  the  low  mists,  it 
hardly  seems  as  if  summer  can  really  be  gone.  But 
day  by  day  the  birches  become  a  deeper  brown  ; 
and  the  elms,  which  stand  so  high,  change  from 
green  to  pale  yellow.  At  length  the  day  comes 
when  swallows,  which  skimmed  so  swiftly  over  the 
silvery  ripples  on  the  lake,  are  seen  no  more,  and 
we  know  that  the  end  of  autumn's  best  show  is 
near.  Just  before  that  time,  when  this  season  seems 
suddenly  to  change  into  winter,  there  come  several 
days  of  sunshine — calm,  warm,  cloudless  days,  with 
a  pale  blue  sky,  nearly  white  on  the  horizon,  and  with 
skylarks  singing  sweetly  over  the  green  meadows. 


HAUNT   OF   THE   WILD   DUCK 


io8       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

I  am  on  a  small  hill  looking  down  upon  a  piece 
of  woodland  growing  on  a  gently  sloping  ridge. 
From  the  lowest  bush  near  the  brook  to  the  highest 
tree  on  the  hill,  where  the  branches  seem  to  touch 
the  dome  of  blue,  there  is  a  soft  blending  of  colours, 
which  in  their  autumn  charm  outrival  all  other  scenes 
in  this  pageant.  It  seems  to  be  too  fascinating  to 
look  away  from,  yet  it  is  almost  impossible  to  single 
out  any  one  tree.  If  we  gaze  at  one  only,  another 
near  clothed  in  a  paler  tint  of  falling  foliage  attracts 
the  eye,  and  looking  at  that,  another  rival  colour 
takes  our  attention.  There  are  not  two  trees  alike 
in  this  whole  sheet  of  woodland,  and  all  is  so  calm 
and  so  suggestive  of  the  handiwork  of  the  great 
Creator,  that  we  may  well  become  lost  in  admiration. 
Small  flocks  of  rooks  fly  over  the  wood,  and  now 
and  then  a  bolt  of  blue  flies  from  one  oak  to  another  ; 
pigeons  are  now  filling  their  crops  with  acorns  ;  and 
jays  in  twos  and  threes  are  on  the  ground  nearer  me. 
One  comes  quite  close,  and  as  it  swallows  an  acorn 
its  throat  is  seen  swelling  as  the  large  seeds  are 
picked  up.  Rabbits  bolting  in  the  bracken  make 
some  noise,  for  now  the  tall  ferns  are  drying 
and  their  beauty  is  fading.  These  clear,  still  days 
leave  nights  of  frost,  and  this  does  most  to  destroy 
the  glory  of  autumn.  The  leaves  drop  before  their 
fullest  beauty  is  reached,  and  the  weight  of  the 
condensed  mists  may  strip  trees  in  one  night.  Then 


THE  PAGEANT  OF  THE  SEASONS    109 

from  the  north  comes  a  cutting  cold  wind,  and  in 
a  few  days  autumn,  as  far  as  its  beauty  is  concerned, 
is  gone  and  the  months  of  winter  are  come. 

The  pageant  has  gone  ;  it  has  passed  "  as  a  tale  that 
is  told."  In  the  beauty  of  the  chestnut  foliage  we 
saw  the  seasons  reflected.  Their  tints  seemed  to 
include  all  the  colours  of  the  year ;  but  they  too  have 
faded  away  and  now  are  dead.  We  watched  them  as 
they  fell — when  the  leaves  parted  from  the  branches, 
weighted  down  with  the  cold,  heavy  dew  of  evening, 
they  floated  a  moment,  as  if  reluctantly  leaving  their 
hold,  then  fell  in  a  tumbling  to  the  ground  and 
added  to  the  decaying  slush  beneath.  There  is 
sadness  in  dying  autumn  such  as  we  all  must 
see.  The  happy  seasons  now  are  mouldering  to 
decay;  the  hours  we  spent  with  Nature  are  now  but 
sunny  memories,  which  are  not  to  be  forgotten 
because  their  glories  are  now  waning. 

I  look  upon  the  empty  wood  from  underneath  an 
old  beech;  there  is  shelter  here  from  the  wild  north 
wind,  and  the  heavy  clouds  above  look  threatening. 
Here  and  there  a  dead  leaf,  which  has  clung  to  the 
branches,  falls  swiftly;  and  one  or  two  snow-flakes, 
driven  by  the  wind  on  to  the  tree-trunks,  show  spots 
of  white.  There  is  now  hardly  a  sound  of  bird  life. 
But  hark !  A  loud  clear  song  is  uttered,  repeated 
once  again,  and  then  only  the  moaning  of  the  winter 
wind  is  heard.  The  wren's  notes  send  my  thoughts 


no       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

back  like  a  flash  to  that  old  ivy-covered  post  near  the 
pathway  in  the  wood.  Once  more,  like  a  panoramic 
scene,  the  pageant  seems  again  to  pass.  I  seem  to 
see  snowdrops  nodding  on  the  ground,  and  the 
celandine  and  primroses  blooming  among  their 
springtide  surroundings.  Violets  flower  and  fade, 
and  the  cry  of  the  cuckoo  and  songs  of  warblers  are 
heard.  Doves  are  cooing  to  their  mates,  and 
swallows  are  twittering  over  blossom-covered  trees. 
Children  in  the  meadows  are  making  ringlets  of 
buttercups,  and  skylarks  sing  overhead.  I  look  upon 
the  wild  roses  of  summer  and  then  upon  fields  of 
standing  corn  ripening  in  the  August  sun ;  the 
woods  again  have  a  touch  of  autumn's  painting, 
and  I  seem  again  to  be  walking  through  the  avenues 
of  bracken.  But  alas!  A  robin  near  suddenly 
breaks  this  reverie  with  a  plaintive  little  song,  and 
I  see  that  the  seasons  I  love  so  much  have  gone. 
The  open  space  in  front  is  now  becoming  whiter 
every  minute,  and  the  broken-down  stalks  of  bracken 
will  soon  be  hidden  by  snow.  Then  right  onward, 

v  O 

with  resistless  power,  the  forces  of  Old  Winter  seem 
to  hold  the  land,  inclosing  it  in  icy  fetters,  which 
means  death  to  so  much  in  the  animal  and  vegetable 
world.  At  length  the  time  will  come  when  once 
again  the  "wind-flower"  will  bloom,  and  the  prim- 
rose flower  and  all  living  creatures  will  once  more 
hail  the  beginning  again  of  the  Pageant  of  the 
Seasons  with  delight  and  song, 


VI 
The  Wooing  of  Birds 

WINTER  has  given  place  to  spring,  and  it  is 
one  of  those  warm,  sunny  days  which  enliven 
the  opening  of  the  freshest  season  of  the  year. 
Long,  dark  shadows  are  cast  by  trees  and  hedge- 
rows, for  the  morning  sun  is  not  far  above  the 
horizon.  I  am  in  a  small  wood ;  through  the  trees 
is  seen  a  lake,  and  now  and  then  a  stretch  of 
brightest  silver  attracts  the  eye  as  a  fish  or  a  moor- 
hen ruffles  the  surface,  the  sun  making  the  ripples 
like  so  many  tiny  mirrors.  On  all  sides  birds  are 
singing,  the  loudest  and  most  persistent  song  coming 
from  a  little  brown  singer  perched  on  a  fence.  The 
wren  always  gives  out  his  song  from  a  prominent 
place,  as  if  he  was  an  important  citizen  of  birdland, 
and  then  he  dives  into  the  thick  bushes,  as  if  he  had 
done  something  of  which  he  repented. 

The  woodside  trees  are  showing  a  tinge  of  red, 
which  gives  promise  of  the  general  resurrection  which 
is  about  to  take  place.  Some  snowdrops  have  broken 
through  the  leafy  carpet,  and  as  their  white  heads 

in 


ii2       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

bend  to  the  passing  breeze,  they  seem  to  be  fore- 
runners of  the  myriads  of  flowers  which,  in  a  few 
weeks,  will  make  this  wood  a  paradise  of  spring. 

From  a  group  of  beeches  comes  the  coo-coo  of  a 
wood-pigeon,  and  stealthily  going  in  that  direction  I 
see  one  of  the  prettiest  birdland  scenes  imaginable — 
a  ring-dove  wooing  his  mate.  There  are  several 
pigeons,  but  the  centre  of  attraction  is  a  young  male, 
who  is  showing  himself  off  to  advantage  to  each  of 
the  hens  in  turn.  First  he  approaches  one  which 
probably  has  already  mated,  for,  after  bowing  and 
cooing  round  her,  he  receives  a  well-merited  sharp 
peck,  which  damps  his  ardour,  but  only  for  a  moment, 
for  he  next  flies  to  another  hen,  which  receives  him 
in  the  same  way,  and  not  being  desirous  of  any  such 
attention  or  nonsense,  she  too  flies  away,  her  rightful 
mate  following. 

Then  the  persevering  lover  sees  a  probable  mate 
in  a  pigeon  which  is  preening  its  feathers  in  a  tree 
near  which  I  am  in  hiding.  He  flies  to  this  tree  and 
watches  for  a  few  moments,  then  growing  bolder, 
approaches  by  short  stages,  until  he  is  on  a  branch 
quite  close ;  but  still  the  hen  does  not  deign  to  notice 
the  intruder.  By  puffing  out  his  feathers,  bowing 
and  cooing  amorously,  he  endeavours  to  attract  atten- 
tion, while  the  other  is  smoothing  out  the  feathers  of 
a  wing.  The  coy  hen  then  lifts  her  head  and  gives 
this  ardent  lover  a  gentle  peck,  which  has  the  effect 


THE   WOOING   OF   BIRDS  113 

of  increasing  his  attentions  by  inspiring  hope.  He 
becomes  more  and  more  excited  ;  he  hops  to  the 
branch  on  which  the,  as  yet,  unresponsive  one  is 
sitting,  and  gradually  works  towards  her,  cooing  as 
he  goes.  After  about  five  minutes  of  this  behaviour 
the  hen  condescends  to  answer  the  pretty  things  he 
is  evidently  saying.  Coo-coo,  coo,  coo-coo-coo,  she  says, 
and  this  recognition  has  a  marvellous  effect  on  the 
male.  Probably  it  corresponds  to  the  human  "  I  like 
you  just  a  little  bit,"  for  he  coos  and  bows,  his  feathers 
are  puffed  out  as  far  as  he  possibly  can  puff  them, 
his  wings  are  drooping  and  vibrating  with  excite- 
ment, and  his  tail  is  raised  and  lowered  in  time  with 
the  bows.  Then,  cooing  again,  the  hen  rubs  her  beak 
on  the  other's  wings,  and  he  answers  by  doing  the 
same,  for  he  has  now  wooed  and  won  his  mate. 
Another  pigeon,  with  loud  flapping,  flies  to  the  tree, 
and  the  pair  fly  away  to  the  fir  plantation,  perhaps 
two  of  the  happiest  inhabitants  of  birdland. 

It  is  still  springtime.  We  are  on  a  railway 
embankment.  The  fresh  green  grass  is  dotted  in 
patches  with  yellow  flowers  —  coltsfoot  and  the 
lesser  celandine.  A  perfume  pervades  the  evening 
air,  and  on  parting  the  thick  grass  we  see  many 
scented  violets  of  the  white  and  blue  varieties. 
Tree  -  pipits  are  rising  a  short  distance  and  de- 
scending with  outspread  wings,  singing  sweetly. 
We  hear  the  short  snatchy  songs  of  whinchats 
H 


ii4       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

which  finish  with  the  curious  whistle  thu-tick, 
thu-tick-tick.  These  sprightly,  engaging  little  birds, 
although  they  appear  as  if  fighting,  do  not  do  each 
other  any  damage.  Evening  is  the  best  time  to 
watch  the  males  at  their  wooing.  Two  cocks  chase 
each  other  round  the  bushes  and  along  the  embank- 
ment ;  sometimes  one  is  the  pursuer,  then  again  the 
other.  The  hen  follows,  and  as  they  settle  she 
settles.  They  seem  never  to  come  to  blows,  or 
rather  pecks,  so  that  it  would  puzzle  one  to  say 
how  they  decide  their  harmless  duel.  Perhaps  the 
hen  whinchat  chooses  the  best-looking  of  the  rivals, 
as  is  the  case  with  some  of  our  gayest  birds.  Right 
on  until  it  is  nearly  dark,  is  this  chasing  about 
kept  up  without  an  observer  seeing  any  actual 
gain  on  either  side.  However,  the  next  morning 
the  pair  are  mated,  and  then  no  sign  of  any  rival 
lover  is  seen. 

The  willow-wren,  one  of  our  first  spring  migrants 
to  arrive,  and  one  of  the  sleekest  and  smallest  of  our 
warblers,  is  a  desperate  little  fighter  when  a  hen  has 
to  be  wooed.  When  the  orchards  are  tinted  pink 
with  blossom,  and  the  air  is  rich  with  the  perfume  of 
wild  flowers,  the  male  willow -wrens  fight  for  the 
females.  The  hen  always  looks  on  at  such  a  contest, 
and  when  one  suitor  is  vanquished  she  helps  the  victor 
to  drive  him  away,  doing  her  utmost  to  give  one  good 
peck  if  possible.  At  the  height  of  the  contest  many 


WHIN  CHAT 


ii6       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

petals  are  knocked  down.  When  the  fight  is  finished 
we  may  see  a  pretty  little  love  scene.  The  male 
keeps  near  the  hen  and  utters  his  undulating  song, 
his  love-talk,  in  varying  pitches.  Sometimes  he 
seems  so  exhilarated  that  he  cannot  repeat  his  song 
in  a  pitch  high  enough  to  satisfy  his  feelings.  He 
will  occasionally  break  off  in  his  song  to  pick  up  an 
insect.  Then,  however,  comes  the  prettiest  scene  of 
all.  He  offers  this  to  the  little  bird  he  has  wooed  as 
a  love-gift,  and  she  tenderly  accepts  it,  while  the  other 
utters  his  song  in  the  fullest  pitch  possible. 

Within  a  few  days  they  will  commence  nest-build- 
ing, and  this  is  always  a  pleasing  sight.  The  position 
is  first  chosen,  then  the  hen  collects  a  few  grasses  and 
commences.  The  male,  who  is  singing  in  the  tree 
above,  will  now  help.  He  brings  the  grasses  and 
gives  them  to  his  little  wife.  This  goes  on  for  a  day 
or  two,  and  when  the  home  is  finished,  and  the  eggs 
are  laid,  the  delight  of  the  male  is  beyond  all  bounds. 
He  sings  the  whole  day  through  for  very  joy.  Let 
us  now  leave  this  happy  scene  and  again  go  back  to 
the  fields. 

Partridges  are  calling,  and  larks,  pipits,  and  wrens 
are  singing.  A  few  rooks  lazily  fly  from  field  to  field, 
and  lapwings  are  playing  over  the  meadows.  Let  us 
hide  in  a  hedgerow,  for  it  is  these  birds  which  we 
wish  to  watch.  It  is  the  end  of  March,  and  now  the 
birds  named  should  be  mating.  A  few  settle  about 


THE   WOOING  OF   BIRDS  117 

seventy  yards  away ;  some  are  already  mated,  as  can 
be  seen  by  the  pairs  keeping  together.  There  are  a 
few,  however,  which  have  not  yet  obtained  mates,  and 
these  are  the  most  interesting.  The  slightly  brighter- 
coloured  males  are  showing  themselves  off  to  the 
females.  Advancing  by  short  runs,  they  lower  their 
heads,  again  running  forwards,  then  retreating,  while 
some  rise  in  the  air,  and  with  a  rushing  noise  made 
by  their  wings — something  like  the  "  drumming  "  of 
a  snipe — descend  to  the  ground  and  recommence 
their  wooing.  All  the  time  their  love-calls  are  given, 
which,  instead  of  being  like  the  ordinary  call,  pee-e- 
wit,  more  resembles  pi-wife,  varied  with  some  other 
calls,  pe-e-e.  When  the  tall  trees  are  casting  their 
long  shadows  over  the  land,  and  the  evening  star  is 
dimly  seen  in  the  pale  sky,  the  birds  go  off  in  pairs ; 
for  while  we  have  been  watching  their  antics  and 
evolutions  they  have  chosen  their  mates,  and  will  in 
a  day  or  two  begin  the  construction  of  their  slight 
grass  nests. 

We  began  by  watching  the  pigeons  in  the  wood  in 
the  early  morning,  and  we  will  finish  also  with  the 
woods.  The  great  red  orb  of  the  sun  is  slowly  sink- 
ing beyond  the  trees  ;  everything  is  still,  and  a  silent 
peace  seems  to  hover  over  the  whole  landscape. 
Wheresoever  we  look  we  see  the  green  tints  of 
returning  spring.  The  air  is  filled  with  the  glad 
songs  of  numberless  feathered  singers ;  every  corner 


iiB      HILLSIDE,   ROCK,  AND   DALE 

of  the  wood  has  its  music  or  love-talk  of  the  birds. 
As  evening  shades  deepen,  one  by  one  of  these  leave 
off  and  enter  the  bushes  below.  When  all  have 
ceased  and  the  pigeons  have  finished  their  soft 
cooing,  and  when  the  darker  sky  is  sprinkled  with 
dots  of  twinkling  gold,  we  hear  a  few  hurried  notes 
from  a  nightingale — then  silence  settles  over  all. 

Presently,  however,  his  loud  notes  ring  out  with 
their  deep  passion  and  fascinating  charm.  The  male 
birds  arrive  about  April  iQth,  and  a  week  later  the 
hens  also  come.  The  bird  in  the  silver  birch  is 
singing  sweeter  far  than  he  has  sung  on  previous 
nights,  for  he  well  knows  that  it  is  by  his  song  he 
will  win  his  mate.  Not  very  far  away  is  another 
nightingale — he  is  singing  against  his  rival — but  the 
one  near  is  far  and  away  the  champion  songster  of 
these  woods.  When  darkness  comes  on  he  stops 
singing ;  there  is  a  slight  rustling  in  the  bushes 
beneath,  and  he  drops  to  these  and  enters  the  cover. 
Kurr-kurr,  we  hear,  muttered  in  a  muffled  tone;  pui- 
pui  is  the  answer.  The  hen  again  calls  kurr-kurr, 
and  the  male  in  reply  sings  a  few  notes,  but  uttered 
in  so  low  a  tone  that  they  can  barely  be  heard. 
This  is  his  love-talk,  and  the  hen  nightingale  answers 
the  pretty  things  he  is  saying  by  repeatedly  calling 
kurr-kurr.  Because  of  the  darkness  we  lose  much 
of  this  love  scene.  For  half  an  hour  or  more  they 
hop  silently  about  the  bushes,  and  then  the  male 


THE   WOOING   OF   BIRDS  119 

again  flies  to  his  favourite  branch  on  the  birch,  and 
pours  out  such  a  flood  of  passionate  and  loving 
music  that  we  know  he  has  won  his  mate — won  her 
by  music,  and  such  music  that  if  only  a  human  voice 
could  match  it  the  singer  would  attract  the  world  ; 
yet  here,  in  this  lonely  woodland  corner  I  am  often 
his  only  human  listener. 


VII 
Chaffinch  Lane 

D INK,  pink.  At  the  entrance  to  Chaffinch  Lane 
I  am  greeted  with  these  full,  musical  notes. 
Pinky  pink,  again  ;  then  a  short  and,  as  it  were,  sharp 
song,  seemingly  given  forth  in  anger.  Looking  into 
the  bushes  a  chaffinch  is  seen  sitting  on  a  spray  of 
may  blossom  ;  and  lower  down,  among  the  brambles, 
there  is  his  nest,  his  mate  also  being  near.  Walking 
on  a  little  farther  I  let  the  two  birds  go  on  with 
their  work  of  building,  meanwhile  watching  them  in 
their  labours.  While  the  hen  sits  in  her  nest,  the 
other  keeps  taking  pieces  of  newspaper,  which  are 
torn  off  a  larger  piece  near  the  road,  and  with  these 
he  decorates  the  nest,  this  material  being  varied 
with  pieces  of  moss  or  horsehair,  which  are  pulled 
from  the  sides  of  trees,  or  from  other  places  against 
which  horses  have  rubbed.  The  characteristic  note, 
pink,  pink,  is  still  repeated,  and  if  one  goes  too  near 
the  now  almost  finished  nest  the  call  becomes  louder, 
and  raising  his  head  he  shows  a  bluish  crest,  and 
then  hops  about  excitedly,  as  if  repelling  an  enemy. 

120 


CHAFFINCH    LANE 


121 


How  he  does  try  to  scold  in  a  most  effective  way ! 
and  as  I  walk 
away  along  the 
lane  he  follows, 
and  when  I  am 
some  distance 
down  I  still  hear 
his  now  merry 
song,  always  be- 
ginning with  the 
loud  note  pink, 
pink.  There  al- 
ways seems  to 
me  to  be  very 
much  of  expres- 
sion and  meaning 
in  the  chaffinch's 
call-notes. 

I  like  to  re- 
cognise this  wild, 
gently  sloping 
hill  as  Chaffinch 
Lane.  That  is  not 
its  proper  name ; 
I  believe  it  has 
had  several  names 
successively,  all  being  less  worthy  of  its  charms.  On 
a  tree  at  its  entrance  is  a  time-worn  notice  board, 


CHAFFINCH'S  NEST 
DECORATED  WITH  NEWSPAPER 


122       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND  DALE 

which  is  now  falling  to  pieces,  the  legal  warning  being 
onlyjust  decipherable/' Trespassers  will  be  prosecuted." 
An  effective  old  notice  this,  and  one  that  has  no  doubt 
frightened  many  a  harmless  wanderer.  To  persons 
who  have  roamed  about  the  country  as  I  have  done, 
such  a  warning  has  no  terror,  for  if  they  behave 
well  by  doing  no  danger  to  crops  or  fences  tres- 
passers cannot  be  prosecuted ;  in  point  of  fact,  I 
believe  the  law  of  England  permits  us  to  go  where 
we  please,  providing  we  do  no  damage.  I  knew  this 
as  a  boy,  and  several  keepers  found  it  out  to  their 
very  excusable  surprise,  and  many  an  interesting 
birdland  scene  would  have  had  its  attractions  un- 
recorded if  I  had  not  occasionally  entered  a  private 
wood,  or  crawled  underneath  a  hedge,  in  order  to 
reach  a  meadow  or  lake  beyond. 

The  notice  board  is  old,  and  is  now  partially 
hidden  by  brambles,  and  no  one  takes  the  trouble 
to  look  at  the  warning,  and  if  they  did  happen  to 
see  it  they  would  pass  on,  because  a  right-of-way 
has  been  for  long  established.  Thus  Chaffinch  Lane 
is  one  of  the  most  wild,  and,  until  lately,  one  of  the 
most  unfrequented  lanes  in  this  charming  suburb  of 
North  London. 

From  no  one  spot  is  it  possible  to  see  many  yards 
away.  The  short  turns,  hidden  by  high  hawthorn 
bushes,  overgrown  with  brambles,  effectually  cut  off 
the  view  on  either  side.  As  I  wander  on  alone,  the 


CHAFFINCH'S  NEST,  DECORATED  WITH  PAPER 


124       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

sensation  is  that  of  being  cut  off  from  the  outside 
world,  and  noise  and  bustle  of  crowded  town  life 
which  is  still  near,  the  hum  of  which  seems  to  make 
itself  heard  beyond.  This  lane  contains  a  little  world 
of  wonders,  yet  this  is  only  a  corner  of  our  sweet, 
still  unrivalled  countryside.  Although  within  a  few 
minutes'  walk  of  a  large  county  town  it  is  a  retreat  of 
superabundant  bird  life,  and  rich  in  Nature's  gifts. 

I  have  always  loved  my  Chaffinch  Lane.  It  is  in 
no  way  disappointing,  the  name  is  in  accordance  with 
the  characteristics  of  the  place.  There  was  once 
a  Nightingale  Lane  in  which  a  famous  speaker  and 
writer  lived  in  a  pretty  villa ;  but  instead  of  being 
called  after  our  chief  of  songsters,  the  prestige  of  the 
lane  all  came  from  a  public-house — "  The  Nightin- 
gale " !  That  was  about  enough  to  ruffle  a  genuine 
nightingale's  feathers ;  but  such  are  the  anomalies  of 
wild  Nature  in  the  suburbs.  Its  native  wildness  has 
always  charmed  me,  and  the  more  I  see  of  this  the 
more  I  am  charmed,  notwithstanding  that  many  of 
its  old  time  characteristics  are  now  no  more  to  be 
seen.  In  these  days  of  "improvement"  it  seems  to 
be  thought  necessary  even  to  destroy  the  sylvan 
retreats  and  surroundings  of  a  suburban  town  in  the 
endeavour  to  make  all  appear  more  modern  or 
London-like.  Give  me  the  old  lanes  and  the  old 
ways,  however;  there  seems  to  be  a  breath  of  the 
good  old  times  in  a  few,  but  a  fast  diminishing 


CHAFFINCH    LANE  125 

number,  of  our  walks  within  the  twelve-mile  radius. 
Chaffinch  Lane  was  once,  not  so  very  long  ago,  a 
mere  waggon  track,  little  frequented.  Such  a  lane 
which  then  led  to  the  farm  land,  if  left,  as  many  were, 
to  run  wild,  formed  a  retreat  of  great  attraction  for 
all  kinds  of  birds.  If  a  road  is  actually  closed  to  all 
traffic,  birds  seem  reluctant  to  make  it  their  abode  ; 
but  if  only  a  few  people  walk  these  daily,  or  if  the 
road  is  used  for  farm  traffic,  the  birds  are  sure  to  be 
found  in  greater  numbers  ;  for  most  of  our  suburban 
birds  like  the  company  of  man. 

This  old  roadway,  now  a  footpath,  which  really 
leads  to  nowhere,  is  overgrown  with  bushes,  and 
these  abound  with  bird  life.  During  the  days  of 
early  spring  I  often  wander  down  Chaffinch  Lane, 
for  it  is  here  that  we  can  nearly  always  reckon  on 
catching  a  first  glimpse  of  the  whitethroat  creeping 
about  the  lower  herbage  ;  and  here,  too,  we  may 
often  see  the  gay-plumaged  redstart  flittering  on 
before  us,  for  many  migratory  birds  come  here  and 
remain  for  a  time  on  their  first  arrival  for  the  season 
in  the  country.  The  lesser  whitethroat,  which  may  be 
readily  recognised  by  his  breast  tinged  with  pink,  is 
seen  and  heard  here  earlier  than  elsewhere.  The  lesser 
whitethroat  when  it  first  arrives  has  a  beautiful  pale 
pink  tinge  on  its  breast  feathers,  but  before  many 
weeks  have  elapsed  this  disappears,  the  chief  cause 
being  the  black  state  of  many  hedges;  the  birds 


126       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,    AND    DALE 

searching  amongst  the  thickest  parts  rub  their 
feathers  against  the  branches,  and  the  pinkiness 
becomes  tainted  and  dull. 


CHAFFINCH  S    NEST 


As  I  walk  down  the  lane  birds  fly  out  of  the 
bushes.  A  cock  blackbird  standing  in  the  lane  seems 
surprised  to  see  an  intruder.  With  head  erect,  and 
moving  his  tail  up  and  down,  he  watches  for  a  few 
moments,  then  darts  onward  between  the  many 


CHAFFINCH    LANE  127 

covered  bushes,  giving  out  his  loud  chattering  cry. 
Another,  startled  by  his  notes,  dashes  out  of  a  bush, 
twists  and  turns  over  the  flowers,  goes  over  the 
hedge,  and  flies  across  the  meadow  beyond ;  and 
then  looking  in  the  bush  from  whence  he  came  I  see 
a  nest  containing  five  green  eggs.  It  is  impossible 
to  see  through  the  dense  thickets  on  each  side  of 
Chaffinch  Lane.  During  the  winter  months  it  is  no 
easy  matter  to  see  through  the  thickly  branched 
bushes ;  but  now,  covered  with  young  green  leaves 
as  they  are,  and  the  fading  hawthorn  blossom  filling 
up  other  spaces,  it  is  well-nigh  an  impossibility  for 
the  eye  to  penetrate  the  mass. 

A  piping  comes  from  a  flower-covered  bush,  and  a 
male  bullfinch,  resplendent  in  his  spring  plumage,  is 
seen,  and  no  doubt  he  has  a  nest  commenced  in  the 
thick  bramble  beyond.  The  cuckoo  has  been  calling 
in  this  lane  for  some  weeks  past,  and  as  I  ramble  on, 
listening  to  the  songs  of  warblers,  one  and  then 
another  flies  out  of  the  bushes.  I  think  the  hen 
cuckoo  often  watches  the  smaller  birds  while  build- 
ing, for  I  have  often  seen  them  fly  from  the  same 
spot  near  a  nest  before  their  egg  has  been  placed 
therein. 

Chaffinch  Lane  widens  here;  the  greensward  is 
almost  bare  of  bushes,  and  among  green  grass  blades, 
daisies,  and  other  flowers,  a  little  spring  of  clear  cold 
water  rises.  Very  slowly  it  trickles  out,  but  still 


128       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

spreads  amongst  the  herbage,  forming  tiny  rivulets 
running  in  zigzag  fashion  in  and  out  between  the 
grass  roots  ;  and  in  parts  little  pools  are  formed,  the 
water  being  of  crystal  purity,  so  that  a  flower  on  the 

edge    is     reflected 
as   in   a     lass.     A 


down  this  miniature 
stream  leaves  the 
green,  and  trickles 
in  many  smaller 
courses  across  and 
down  the  old  road- 
way ;  then  finally 
it  reaches  the  grass 
on  the  other  side, 
and  is  lost  sight  of 
among  the  bushes. 
Farther  still  down 
the  lane  we  hear  it 
drip,  drip,  dripping 

___  underneath     the 

YOUNG  CHAFFINCH  thickest  parts  of  the 

bushes,    and    here 

this  dripping  sound  is  mingled  with  the  blackcap's 
wild  song,  given  out  loud  and  distinct.  Soon 
a  shaking  branch  tells  where  the  bird  is  sitting. 
Looking  back  up  the  lane  I  see  a  blackbird  standing 


CHAFFINCH   LANE  129 

near  the  little  pools.  A  chaffinch  joins  him,  splashing 
in  the  water ;  then,  after  fluttering  on  a  bending 
branch  and  drying  his  feathers  he  drops  to  the 
ground  again,  calls  pink,  pink,  picks  up  a  small  piece 
of  moss,  and  away  he  goes  up  the  lane  between  the 
green  bushes,  the  happiest  and  busiest  creature  in 
Chaffinch  Lane. 

It  always  takes  a  lover  of  Nature  a  long  time  to 
walk  from  end  to  end  of  Chaffinch  Lane.  Every 
step  something  fresh  attracts  notice  ;  in  nearly  every 
bush  and  tree  I  see  something  that  reminds  me  of 
happy  days  gone  by,  for  I  have  known  and  loved 
this  lane  all  my  life,  and  scenes  which  remind  us  of 
younger  days  are  always  fascinating  in  their  interest. 

When  at  last  I  reach  the  old  bridge  that  spans  the 
brook  at  the  end  of  the  lane  I  halt  for  rest,  for  it  is 
here  that  much  more  of  Nature  is  to  be  seen.  The 
stream  is  flowing  slowly,  and  near  the  hedge  a  trickle 
of  water  attracts  attention  ;  it  is  the  water  from  the 
spring  higher  up  the  hill  that  has  found  its  way 
underneath  the  thick  dark  bushes  to  the  larger 
stream.  Just  round  the  curve  a  long  row  of  old 
pollard  willows  stand  like  so  many  sentinels  along 
the  stream-side.  The  marsh-tit  breeds  in  these, 
boring  its  own  hole  through  the  solid  wood.  It 
has  always  been  a  mystery  to  me  how  a  bird  with 
such  a  tiny  beak  can  make  a  hole  in  wood  that  it  is 
difficult  to  cut  with  a  sharp  knife  ;  but  the  marsh-tit 
i 


130      HILLSIDE,  ROCK,  AND   DALE 

does  this,  and  a  cosy  nesting-hole  he  makes  too,  lined 
with  the  willow-catkins  and  fine  mosses  and  hair. 

This  lane,  which  is  thus  overflowing  with  life,  seems 
to  be  different  from  the  more  distant  country  road- 
ways. There  are  more  birds  here,  because  owing 
to  the  buildings  and  new  roads  which  are  springing 
up  all  around,  they  are  compelled  either  to  leave 
their  old  haunts  altogether,  or  move  to  the  few 
available  nesting  sites  near.  Nearly  all  birds  have 
a  great  affection  for  their  old  haunts,  and  it  needs 
much  of  inconvenience  to  make  them  leave  their 
quarters.  Chaffinch  Lane  is  becoming  a  harbour 
of  refuge  for  dozens  of  warblers,  finches,  thrushes, 
titmice,  and  other  common  but  much-loved  denizens 
of  the  countryside.  I  try  to  find  out  why  this  lane 
shows  such  a  marked  difference  to  distant  haunts 
of  a  similar  kind.  At  first  the  cause  is  difficult  to 
detect ;  but  when  evening  comes  on ;  when  birds 
one  by  one  cease  their  love-songs,  and  their  happy 
chatterings  become  less ;  when  the  sun,  which  sinks 
like  a  ball  of  molten  crimson  beyond  the  undulating 
meadows,  has  gone,  we  find  out  why  this  is.  Far 
out  in  the  larger  counties  there  always  seems  to 
be  harmony  in  the  air,  which  can  only  be  described 
as  the'  music  of  summer.  This  is  unnoticed  by  the 
majority  of  people,  yet  the  sound  is  there.  So 
soft  is  this  undertone  in  the  evening  air,  that  the 
hum  of  the  countless  gnats  as  they  play  round 


CHAFFINCH    LANE 


the  bushes,  drowns 
it.  I  have  heard 
this  summer  music 
on  a  Surrey  com- 
mon, in  the  Hert- 
fordshire lanes, 
and  on  the  Dorset 
hills;  and  it  seems 
to  make  the 
country  more 
beautiful,  coming 
like  the  voice  of 
Nature  herself. 
But  here  in  this 
secluded  subur- 
ban lane  the 
cessation  of  the 
birds'  songs  only 
causes  the  rum- 
bling and  distant 
roarofthegreatest 
city  on  earth  to 
be  more  apparent. 
So  distinctly  have 
I  known  this  un- 
welcome muffled 
roar  to  be,  that 
it  has  prevented 


ROBIN  S   NEST 


132       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

me  from  hearing  a  nightingale's  song,  for  there  is  a 
nightingale  in  Chaffinch  Lane.  As  I  return  up  the 
winding  road  this  hum  and  roar  lakes  away  some  of 
the  silent  charm  which  one  would  like  to  meet  with. 

A  few  days  more  of  spring  sunshine  have  passed, 
and  when  I  once  more  make  my  way  to  my  favourite 
haunt  I  expect  to  see  my  chaffinch  sitting  on  a 
clutch  of  eggs.  I  hear  the  merry  pink,  pink,  and 
on  feeling  in  the  nest  I  find  there  are  three  eggs. 
When  I  return  from  a  ramble  down  the  lane  I 
notice  the  chaffinch's  notes  are  given  with  a  touch 
of  sadness,  and  going  to  the  nest  I  find  all  the  eggs 
are  gone !  As  the  nest  is  warm  I  can  tell  the 
eggs  have  only  just  been  taken,  probably  by  a 
robber  bird.  I  did  not  want  these  birds,  which 
always  greeted  me  when  I  passed  them,  to  desert 
their  chosen  home,  so  I  now  pick  up  two  small 
stones,  about  the  size  and  shape  of  a  chaffinch's 
egg,  and  place  these  in  the  nest,  hoping  that  the 
birds  will  think  these  are  their  eggs,  and  so  lay  more 
to  make  up  the  full  number. 

I  had  occasion  to  pass  this  nest  three  weeks  later, 
and  my  delight  was  great  to  see  the  hen  still  sitting. 
My  little  ruse  was  a  success,  then  ?  But  on  rousing 
the  bird  off  her  nest,  to  my  surprise  and  disappoint- 
ment I  found  she  had  been  sitting  all  this  time,  but 
only  on  the  two  stones ! 


IN   THE    RAVEN  S    HAUNT 


VIII 
An   Outlaw  of  the  Air 

THE  grey  dawn  of  morning  was  giving  place 
to  the  fuller  light  of  sunrise  when  I  first  looked 
upon  the  raven's  haunt.  Over  the  wild  and  rugged 
hills,  clouds  tinged  with  roseate  hue  were  travelling 
fast.  As  the  cold  greyness  disappeared,  the  clouds 
turned  into  deeper  crimson  and  glimpses  of  green 
sky  could  be  seen  between  the  wind-torn  rolls  of 
vapour,  and  then  like  a  golden  flood  the  sunbeams 
burst  out  between  two  giant  hills,  while  a  missel- 
thrush  heralded  the  light  with  his  cheerful  song. 


134       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 

A  twite  on  the  higher  branches  of  a  tree  called 
out  his  notes,  then  flitted  on  towards  the  rising 
sun.  This,  as  it  slowly  rose  higher,  showed  with 
distinctness  a  ridge  of  pines,  black  against  the  now 
increasing  light,  and  farther  off,  between  the  nearer 
hills,  I  saw  the  haunt  of  that  now  rare  bird — the 
raven. 

We  were  stranded  at  a  little  country  station,  but 
happily  this  boasted  of  a  waiting-room  and  a  fire. 
After  a  time  a  sleepy  porter  came  on  the  scenes  to 
give  us  some  light.  At  last  our  train  did  pull  up 
to  take  us  one  stage  nearer  to  our  goal.  For  one 
day  and  night  we  stayed  in  a  riverside  village  and 
explored  the  beautiful  and  wild  country,  but  our 
thoughts  were  on  the  far-away  distant  ridge  of  hills, 
which  were  seen,  almost  hidden  by  a  veil  of  mist. 
As  we  wandered  by  the  dipper  stream,  rippling  and 
bubbling  on  its  way  over  moss-covered  boulders  and 
smaller  stones,  we  looked  forward  to  the  parts  where 
the  current  was  not  so  wide,  and  where  it  flowed 
more  rapidly  between  the  higher  hills.  Here,  how- 
ever, its  beauty  was  most  enchanting,  and  when  the 
pink  hue  of  evening's  sunset  touched  the  hills  and 
water  alike,  turning  the  latter's  sparkling  ripples 
into  gleams  like  tinted  jewels,  I  seemed  to  be  in 
a  new  world,  even  the  sounds  of  the  country,  as  well 
as  the  scenes,  being  new  to  me.  I  can  now  picture 
again  in  my  mind  the  hundreds  of  fields,  the  fantastic 


AN   OUTLAW   OF   THE   AIR         135 

shapes  of  dividing  hedges,  and  the  many  different 
tints  on  near  and  more  distant  hills — rusty  red 
where  the  dead  bracken  lay,  and  deep  green  near  the 


A   HILLSIDE   STREAM 


136       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 

streams,  and  white  cottages  with  cattle  grazing 
near,  while  the  homeward-bound  shepherd  was  seen 
with  his  dogs.  Little  things  in  themselves,  yet  the 
whole  sufficing  to  make  up  a  picture  of  rural  beauty 
not  to  be  forgotten. 

Not  a  great  many  years  ago  ravens  used  to  breed 
in  our  inland  counties.  The  tree  still  stands  in  which 
the  last  pair  bred  in  Middlesex.  Still  these  birds  are 
not  altogether  confined  to  the  wildest  parts  of  our 
coasts,  for  in  one  or  two  well-protected  inland  spots 
they  still  build  and  lay.  It  was  in  one  of  these 
inland  breeding  haunts  that  I  saw  and  studied  the 
habits  of  these  outlaws  of  the  air.  I  call  them  out- 
laws because  they  have  been  driven  from  most  of 
our  English  counties  by  powder  and  shot,  through 
an  erroneous  idea  that  our  raven  kills  and  takes 
lambs  and  other  small  animals.  In  this  respect, 
however,  the  raven  is  not  such  a  confirmed  robber 
as  the  carrion  crow.  In  counties  in  which  I  found 
the  former  breeding,  there  were  extensive  sheep 
farms.  I  have  it  on  the  authority  of  shepherds  and 
keepers  that  the  raven  seldom,  if  ever,  touched  the 
live  lambs,  while  the  carrion  crow  was  a  much  worse 
offender,  for  he  was  often  seen  threatening  or  attack- 
ing them.  Civilisation  has  also  had  much  to  do  with 
driving  the  raven  from  England. 

At  last  we  reached  the  hills,  and  I  cannot  describe 
their  wild  grandeur.  Over  one  great  rock  six  buzzards 


AN   OUTLAW   OF   THE   AIR          137 

were  soaring  in  wonderful  circles,  soon  to  be  out  of 
sight  in  the  blue  of  heaven.  We  met  the  keeper  at 
the  appointed  spot,  left  our  luggage  at  the  little  road- 
side inn,  and  we  were  soon  on  our  way  to  search  for 
the  raven,  the  first  of  five  memorable  days  which 
were  spent  in  this  mountainous  district. 

Ravens  always  place  their  nests  in  such  a  position 
that  the  morning  sun  shines  upon  them,  and  thus  it 
is  generally  useless  to  search  among  rocks  which  do 
not  face  east  or  south-east.  After  a  walk  of  about 
two  miles,  we  saw  a  pair  of  ravens  circling  over  their 
haunt,  and  a  nest  was  found  apparently  not  yet 
ready  for  eggs.  This  we  afterwards  discovered  was 
a  dummy,  and  never  meant  to  contain  eggs.  The 
raven,  I  believe,  always  makes  two  nests,  and  if  any 
intruder  approaches,  the  birds  are  often  seen  settling 
near  or  flying  over  the  unused  one.  Time  after  time 
we  saw  a  raven  sitting  on  a  rock  immediately  over 
a  dummy  nest,  his  black  form  outlined  in  sharp 
profile  against  the  sky.  At  last  we  discovered  his 
little  ruse,  and  found  that  all  the  time  the  hen  was 
sitting  on  one  egg  in  a  genuine  nest  near  by.  This 
was  well  concealed,  and  there  was  every  probability 
of  the  one  egg  being  hatched.  We  did  not  discover 
it  until  the  day  before  leaving. 

We  toiled  over  hills  and  through  valleys,  explored 
many  gorges  and  dingles  on  that  first  day,  until 
about  one  o'clock  we  saw  one  of  the  great  birds 


138       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

leave  a  rock,  and  immediately  afterwards  the  hen 
followed  from  a  dingle  between  two  of  the  smaller 

hills.  The  raven's 
home  is  a  home 
of  mountains, 

;»j*S!K- * j«^v'  *  ""^JBnaS^       rivers;andwater- 

ESEHffli^^^i^SSSB      r  n        T     ^ 

falls.      In    the 

steep  but  narrow 
gorges  between 
the  hills,  where 
the  rocks  are 
ivy- covered  and 
water  rushes  in 
torrents  far  be- 
low, we  find  the 
raven's  nest.  It 
was  in  such  a 
dingle  that  we 
found  this  one, 
for  after  a  short 
search  it  was 
seen  about  half- 
way up  the  ivy- 
covered  rock  - 
side.  Although 

such  a  large  structure  it  was  skilfully  concealed, 
and  from  a  short  distance  harmonised  with  the 
surroundings.  The  beauty  of  the  site  was  beyond 


RAVEN'S  NEST 


AN    OUTLAW   OF   THE   AIR  139 

description — indeed,  if  we  follow  the  raven  to  his 
haunt  we  come  upon  the  most  wild  and  rugged 
scenery  that  our  British  Islands  can  boast  of.  This 
nest  did  not  appear  to  be  difficult  of  access,  but 
when  we  attempted  to  climb,  we  found  it  impossible 
to  reach  the  place  without  ropes.  The  nest  contained 
two  eggs,  which  could  be  seen  from  above,  and  by 
waiting  four  days  we  hoped  the  bird  would  lay  the 
full  clutch.  On  our  way  home  a  thick  mist  de- 
scended, and  we  arrived  at  our  inn  wet  through  and 
hungry,  but  well  satisfied  with  our  first  day's  work  in 
the  raven's  haunt. 

This  nest  was  discovered  on  March  I4th.  We  re- 
turned to  photograph  it  on  the  I7th,  and  were  some- 
what surprised  to  find  that  still  it  contained  only  two 
eggs,  and  that  the  hen  was  sitting  on  them.  After  a 
short  rest  we  prepared  for  the  descent,  but  found  to 
our  dismay  that  the  crowbar  to  hold  the  ropes  could 
not  be  driven  into  the  hard  rock,  there  being  only  a 
few  inches  of  soil,  and  not  enough  to  secure  any 
hold.  Almost  over  the  nest  there  was  a  fair-sized 
ledge,  and  we  climbed  down  to  this  and  endeavoured 
to  drive  the  crowbar  in  here,  but  over  the  rock  there 
was  only  a  thick  layer  of  moss,  and  this  also  gave  no 
hold.  We  were  beginning  to  think  that  a  photo- 
graph could  not  be  taken,  but  I  was  determined  if  it 
was  possible  it  should  be  done.  A  little  to  the  left 
and  above  the  nest  there  was  a  small  tree  growing  in 


140       HILLSIDE,  ROCK,   AND   DALE 

the  side  of  the  cliff.  This  hardly  looked  strong 
enough  to  stand  much  strain,  but  my  friend  Mr. 
J.  A.  Walpole  Bond  climbed  down  to  this,  and  took 
the  ropes  with  him  and  fastened  both  to  the  small 
trunk.  The  keeper  and  I  then  went  to  the  bottom 
of  the  dingle,  where  the  rushing  waterfall's  never- 
ceasing  roar  drowned  every  other  sound.  Both  of  us 
then  hung  on  to  the  rope,  and  finding  that  it  bore 
our  combined  weight,  I  had  no  hesitation  in  pre- 
paring for  the  ascent.  I  strapped  my  camera  and 
tripod  to  my  back,  and  when  all  was  ready  I  was 
hauled  up  for  fifty  feet.  The  difficulties  of  manipu- 
lating a  camera  when  hanging  in  space  are  extremely 
great — one  really  needs  about  six  hands.  After  a 
deal  of  manoeuvring  I  could  not  manage  to  get  the 
tripod  legs  in  position,  owing  to  there  being  no 
crevices  or  jutting  pieces  of  rock  within  reach,  and 
so  I  had  to  use  the  apparatus  as  a  hand-camera ;  but 
even  then  it  took  me  nearly  an  hour  to  focus  and 
take  a  series  of  six  pictures.  However,  at  length 
the  hard  task  was  clone,  and  I  descended  with  my 
camera  and  photographs,  which  I  have  every  reason 
to  believe  are  the  first  pictures  of  a  raven's  nest  with 
its  contents  photographed  in  situ  that  have  ever  been 
taken.  Such  nests  have  been  photographed  before, 
or  rather  their  sites,  but  I  have  never  seen  a  picture 
showing  the  eggs. 

The  second  nest  was  found  on  March  I5th.     This 


THE  AUTHOR  AT  THE  RAVEN'S  NEST 


142       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,    AND   DALE 

was  not  ready  for  eggs,  but  I  secured  a  picture  of 
the  site.  Before  I  succeeded  in  this  my  camera  had 
a  narrow  escape  of  being  smashed  to  atoms.  To 
reach  the  nest  we  had  to  climb  up  a  steep,  loose, 
slate  cliff,  and  I  placed  my  camera,  as  I  thought 
securely,  a  short  distance  below  the  nest.  It  was 
packed  with  the  lenses  in  a  limp  canvas  case.  I  was 
just  preparing  to  set  up  the  apparatus  when  I  had 
the  horror  of  seeing  the  case  bounding  full-speed 
down  the  side  of  the  hill !  Over  and  over  it  rolled, 
jumping  the  larger  stones,  ever  getting  nearer  and 
nearer  to  the  steep  precipice  sixty  feet  farther  down. 
The  scene  only  lasted  a  few  seconds,  but  it  seemed 
long  to  me  sitting  helpless  above.  At  last,  with  one 
big  bound,  it  disappeared  over  the  edge  and  was  lost 
to  view.  There  was  a  drop  here  of  forty  feet,  and 
after  this  a  long,  slanting  fall  of  three  hundred  feet 
or  more  into  the  rushing  river  below,  the  roar  of 
which  could  be  heard.  I  waited  to  hear  the  smashing 
fall  which  I  felt  certain  must  be  heard,  but  still 
thought  that  it  seemed  to  be  long  in  coming.  Was 
it  already  on  its  way  to  the  river,  or  could  it  possibly 
have  lodged  at  the  foot  of  the  steep  fall  of  rock  ? 
Mr.  Bond,  who  followed  the  camera  as  quickly  as 
anyone  ever  yet  went  down  such  a  steep  piece  of 
cliff,  reached  the  edge  soon  after  the  bag  disappeared, 
and  then  shouted  the  welcome  news  that  it  was  safe. 
By  a  most  miraculous  piece  of  luck  there  happened 


AN   OUTLAW   OF  THE   AIR 


to  be  a  small  bush  a  few  feet  down  the  cliff,  and  on 
two  small  branches  of  this  my  precious  camera  had 
caught.  He 
soon  hauled  it 
up,  and  I  began 
to  unpack,  still 
expecting  to 
find  the  whole 
apparatus  re- 
duced to  match- 
wood ;  but  it 
felt  solid  from 
the  outside. 
The  straps 
were  quickly 
undone  and  the 
camera  pulled 
out,and,strange 
to  say,  it  had 
survived  this 
journey  —  one 
bent  screw  and 
a  slight  crack 
being  all  the  RAVEN'S  NEST 

damage    done. 

Then,  however,  I  feared  for  the  two  lenses,  and  hardly 
dared  to  open  the  silk  handkerchief  containing  them; 
but  these,  too,  were  safe,  including  my  much-valued 


144       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

Goerz  lens.  It  speaks  well  for  the  maker  of  the  camera, 
for  I  am  certain  no  other  ever  had  such  a  long  and 
rough  journey  to  arrive  at  the  end'  safe  and  sound.  A 
few  inches  farther  to  the  right  or  left,  or  if  it  had  only 
made  a  bigger  bound  when  it  passed  out  of  our  view, 
it  would  have  meant  certain  destruction,  and  the 
pictures  illustrating  this  chapter  could  not  have  been 
taken.  My  camera  has  had  some  remarkable  escapes 
in  its  time,  but  its  preservation  on  this  occasion 
surpasses  all  its  other  wild  adventures. 

During  the  five  days  which  I  spent  in  the  ravens' 
haunt  I  had  good  opportunities  of  seeing  many  pairs 
of  birds  ;  in  a  radius  of  thirty  miles  we  found  four 
nests  containing  eggs.  One  of  these  meant  a  stiff 
climb,  but  the  others  were  not  difficult  to  reach, 
although  to  get  to  these  we  had  to  climb  three 
hundred  feet  or  thereabouts  on  treacherous,  slaty 
cliffs,  where  a  false  step,  or  a  slip  in  places,  would 
mean  almost  certain  death.  We  were  half-way  up 
one  hillside  when  a  raven  left  her  nest  and  circled 
round  above,  joined  by  her  mate,  the  latter  for  some 
reason  being  very  angry.  He  gave  vent  to  his 
feelings  on  a  flock  of  jackdaws  which  rose  near.  He 
picked  one  bird  out  of  the  flock,  chased  it,  twisting 
and  turning  in  his  flight,  and  almost  succeeded  in 
striking  it.  Being  foiled,  he  made  one  or  two  grand, 
rushing  swoops,  and  then  turned  at  right  angles  and 
swept  down  like  a  bullet  on  another  terrified  jackdaw  ; 


AUTHOR    DESCENDING    A   LOOSE    SLATE   CLIFF 
' 


146       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

but  with  wonderful  powers  of  flight  for  a  jackdaw 
this  one  also  eluded  his  pursuer.  Not  until  the 
whole  flock  of  intruders  had  been  driven  from  his 
well-guarded  haunt  did  the  raven  rest ;  then,  floating 
along  with  outspread  pinions,  he  soared  round  and 
about  his  nest,' every  now  and  then  "tumbling'' — -a 
curious  habit,  he  has.  While  going  along  slowly 
he  falls  on  his  back  in  the  air,  drops  a  few  feet,  then 
recovers  himself  and  soars  again. 

When  ravens  have  young  the  male  will  almost 
attack  any  intruder  who  goes  too  near  the  nest, 
whether  it  be  man  or  bird.  A  keeper  I  know,  who 
lives  near  the  ravens'  haunt,  was  once  sitting  near  to 
a  nest  containing  a  brood.  One  of  the  old  birds  was 
flying  about  the  steep  dingle  or  gorge  on  the  hillside, 
"  barking "  defiance,  and  trying  to  guard  his  young. 
A  too  venturesome  kestrel,  which,  I  believe,  had  a 
nest  in  the  same  dingle,  began  flying  round  the 
larger  bird.  This  so  angered  the  raven  that  he 
attacked  the  kestrel  without  more  ado.  The  latter, 
with  much  better  powers  of  flight,  simply  toyed  with 
his  adversary,  and  for  a  long  time  the  two  soared 
round  and  about,  the  kestrel  seeming  to  enjoy  the 
fun,  while  the  raven,  to  judge  by  his  angry  "  barks," 
was  becoming  more  and  more  enraged.  At  last  he 
became  more  determined,  and  with  one  desperate 
rush  caught  up  to  the  little  brown  hawk,  and  with  a 
deadly  blow  struck  him  down.  For  the  last  time  the 


148       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

kestrel  dropped  with  closed  wings,  as  he  had  done 
many  a  time  before  when  catching  his  prey,  but  this 
time  he  fell  to  the  banks  of  the  picturesque  waterfall 
at  the  bottom  of  the  dingle,  and  when  the  keeper 
went  down  he  found  that  the  bird's  head  was  nearly 
severed  from  its  body.  The  raven  had  probably 
struck  his  foe  with  one  of  his  great  wings,  and  to 
judge  by  his  contented  calls  as  he  returned  to  the 
nest,  this  outlaw  of  the  air  felt  well  satisfied  with  his 
victory. 

The  raven's  calls  and  notes  are  almost  a  kind  of 
language.  Those  who  have  lived  among  them, 
and  who  are  observant,  are  sometimes  able  to  tell 
whether  it  is  the  cock  or  hen  which  calls,  and  their 
many  different  notes  uttered  by  either  bird  can  in 
some  measure  be  understood.  When  the  nest  con- 
tains young  is  perhaps  the  best  time  to  hear  the 
raven's  language.  If  a  person  then  goes  too  near, 
some  of  the  bolder  birds  will  threaten  to  attack  them, 
and  in  their  anger  will  perch  on  a  tree,  and  call 
defiantly,  and  tear  and  snap  off  twigs  and  small 
branches,  but  showing  at  the  same  time,  to  those 
who  can  understand  a  bird's  manners  and  language, 
anxiety  and  love  for  the  precious  fledgelings. 

If  a  sheep  should  fall  sick  and  die,  or,  as  is  more 
often  the  case,  should  slip  down  the  rocks  and  get 
killed,  ravens  are  the  first  to  discover  the  mishap, 
and  with  gluttonous  haste  they  will  tear  out  favourite 


AN   OUTLAW   OF   THE   AIR          149 

morsels  from  the  body.  But  before  touching  such 
food  a  raven  soars  round  and  above  the  carcase,  to 
see  that  there  is  no  human  enemy  lurking  in  the 
rocks ;  for  though  quick  to  find  food,  he  is  ever  on  the 
alert,  and  never,  except  in  very  foggy  weather,  will 
he  approach  within  gunshot.  The  raven  is,  even  for 


EGGS   OF    RAVEN 

a  bird,  an  early  riser ;  long  before  sunrise  he  "  beats  " 
the  hills  and  valleys,  and  after  sunset  his  harsh  call, 
cruck-cruck,  may  still  be  heard  as  he  homeward  goes 
to  his  retreat  among  the  hills. 

We  found  one  nest  with  five  eggs,  after  a  long  and 
stiff  climb  of  over  a  thousand  feet.  We  were 
certain  there  was  a  nest  near  at  hand,  but  for  some 


150       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

time  it  could  not  be  discovered.  We  rested  about 
two-thirds  of  the  way  up  the  precipitous  rock  and 
took  our  lunch.  When  this  was  almost  finished,  we 
heard  the  well-known  call  of  the  raven,  which  sounded 
only  about  fifty  feet  above,  and  although  Watkins, 
the  keeper  (a  thorough  naturalist  and  bird-lover),  said 
it  was  a  cock  raven  calling  far  above,  I  was  con- 
vinced it  was  the  hen  calling  from  her  nest.  Another 
difficult  climb,  and  the  nest  was  discovered,  but  in  a 
position  absolutely  impossible  to  photograph,  either 
with  or  without  the  aid  of  ropes. 

The  view  from  the  rocks  immediately  above  this 
nest  was  stupendous  and  of  marvellous  grandeur ; 
it  can  best  be  described  by  one  word — solitude — a 
solitude  so  complete  and  impressive  that  one  felt 
awed.  Twelve  hundred  feet  below,  the  river,  winding 
like  a  silver  thread,  made  its  way  over  boulders  and 
between  rocks.  Snowy  white  waterfalls  and  smaller 
mountain  streams,  as  they  came  down  from  their 
heights,  were  the  only  sounds— the  music  of  these 
everlasting  hills ;  and  this  reached  us,  as  it  were, 
in  an  undertone — a  softly  pleasing  sound,  a  contrast 
to  the  deafening  roar  which  is  heard  when '  near 
to  the  boiling  torrents.  Fit  music  this,  I  thought, 
as  I  looked  over  the  vast  view  stretched  before 
me,  for  the  raven  to  listen  to  from  his  citadel.  There 
was  a  roadway  by  the  river — a  faint  grey  line.  The 
opposite  hill  was. dark,  covered  on  its  lower  sides 


AN    OUTLAW   OF  THE   AIR          151 

with  sheep-walks;  and  more  to  the  left  was  a  small 
larch  wood.  Patches  of  red  showed  where  the  dead 
bracken  still  lay,  and  sprinkled  about  the  hills  were 
here  and  there  tiny  white  dots — the  sheep.  Away 
yonder  a  small  white  cottage  is  almost  hidden  by 
a  turn  in  the  valley,  and  from  a  wood  near  here 
we  heard  every  now  and  then  the  sound  of  an  axe 
striking  wood.  It  is  strange  how  the  smallest  sound 
will  sometimes  rise  to  such  a  height  With  the  aid 
of  my  glasses  I  see  a  woman  cutting  branches  from 
a  tree ;  then  like  a  speck  we  see  her  trudging  home- 
wards with  her  burden.  Overhead,  buzzards  were 
"  mewing,"  adding  to  the  rare  wildness  of  the  scene 
with  their  wild  cries — a  cry  so  much  in  harmony  with 
these  lonely  hills.  Skimming  with  swift  and  graceful 
flight  along  the  ridge  of  the  opposite  hill,  we  saw 
a  kite — that  rarest  of  British  birds.  For  as  long 
as  it  was  possible  to  follow  him  with  our  eyes  we  did 
so,  for  even  to  see  a  kite  is  a  red-letter  day  in  the 
lifetime  of  an  ardent  naturalist.  For  a  time  I  sat  on 
a  hill,  looking  out  over  one  of  the  wildest  spots  to  be 
found  in  the  British  Islands,  lost  in  admiration  at  the 
bleak  and  rugged  hills  before  me,  while  high  up  over 
the  valley  the  two  ravens  flew,  watching  our  every 
movement.  Sometimes  it  seemed  as  though  the 
male  was  trying  to  drive  his  mate  back  to  the 
nest,  for  they  occasionally  had  a  "  set-to  "  in  the  air. 
At  length  we  went  on  our  way,  leaving  the  ravens  in 


152       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

sole  possession  of  their  lonely  home,  and  long  may 
they  live  in  these  wild  hills,  unpersecuted  by  col- 
lectors ;  for  the  sable  forms  of  these  fine  birds  as  they 
fly  from,  crag  to  crag  are  a  fitting  addition  to  the 
charm  of  their  romantic  home. 

Egg  collectors,  or  agents  of  dealers  in  birds'  eggs, 
are  now  the  worst  enemies  of  rare  birds.  If  it  were 
not  for  such  destroyers  the  fast-diminishing  number 
of  our  rarer  breeding  species  would,  in  the  course  of 
a  few  years,  naturally  increase.  I  have  been  told  re- 
peatedly— and  I  have  also  seen  similar  assertions  in 
print — that  bond-fide  collecting  does  not  do  harm  to 
the  birds  in  question.  If  there  was  only  one  collector 
in  these  small  islands,  and  if  that  one  was  content 
with  one  clutch  of  eggs  only,  the  above  argument 
would  have  some  little  force.  But  there  are  hundreds 
of  people  who  call  themselves  bond-fide  collectors 
who  are  not  easily  satisfied.  I  know  some  who 
think  it  necessary  to  have  five  or  six  clutches  of 
eggs  of  such  rare  birds  as  the  raven  or  buzzard,  to 
make  their  collection  of  any  value.  Egg  collectors, 
and  .these  alone,  are  driving  from  this  country  its  last 
remaining  specimens  of  rare  birds,  whose  absence  in 
time  will  be  vainly  regretted. 

We  found  one  other  nest  containing  three  eggs, 
one  of  these  being  broken,  also  one  or  two  nests  not 
ready  for  eggs.  The  five  days  we  spent  among  the 
hills  will  ever  be  remembered  with  joy.  It  is  no 


AN    OUTLAW    OF   THE   AIR 


153 


child's-play  searching  for  and  photographing  ravens' 
nests ;  it  means  downright  hard  work.  Walks  of 
twenty  to  thirty  miles  a  day  over  the  roughest  hills, 
tramps  through  rivers  and  bogs,  and  climbs  on  some 
of  the  most  treacherous  cliffs,  not  to  mention  the 
heavy  apparatus,  makes  one  thoroughly  tired  out  at 
the  end  of  the  day.  There  is  one  thing,  however,  in 
its  favour — the  keen,  bracing  air  gives  one  a  most 
voracious  appetite  ;  and  after  a  bath  and  dinner  one 
feels  almost  equal  to  commence  another  day's  tramp. 


A    STREAM    THE    DIPPER   LOVES 


IX 
The  Dartford  Warbler 

IN  my  wanderings  over  this  country  while  studying 
bird  life,  I  have  seen  a  great  variety  of  scenery, 
ranging  from  wild,  treeless  hills,  to  marshy  plains,  but 
I  think  that  of  all  views  I  ever  looked  upon  the 
commons  of  Surrey  have  been  to  me  the  most 
charming.  In  a  day's  walk  over  some  of  these  large 
tracts  we  come  across  ever-changing  scenes.  Surrey 
landscapes  are  some  of  the  most  beautiful  in  the 
country,  and  are  teeming  with  bird  life.  One  of 
these  commons  is  favoured  by  the  presence  of  that 
rare  bird  the  Dartford  warbler.  My  friend  Mr. 
Norman  Gilroy  found  this  species  breeding  there 
during  the  early  spring  of  1902,  and  I  went  down 
with  him  to  photograph  the  nest  on  April  26th.  He 
discovered  two  nests  the  week  before  this ;  one 
contained  one  egg,  the  other  was  not  quite  finished. 
The  day  we  visited  this  common  was  somewhat 
unfavourable  for  photography,  owing  to  a  strong 
wind  which  was  blowing.  Such  a  wind  is  the  bird- 
photographer's  chief  disadvantage.  It  is  next  to 


THE   DARTFORD   WARBLER          155 

impossible  to  get  a  picture  of  a  nest  in  a  bush  when 
this  is  swaying  through  gusty  blasts. 

We  had  not  been  on  the  furze-covered  common 
more  than  half  an  hour  when  we  saw  a  Dartford 
warbler.  This  was  the  hen  bird,  and  she  resented 
our  visit  to  her  nesting  quarters  by  calling  angrily 
tuez,  tuez,  every  few  seconds.  This  is  a  pretty  note, 
quite  different  to  any  call  uttered  by  any  other  British 
warbler.  It  is  much  softer  than  the  whitethroat's 
chez,  chez,  and  cannot  be  confounded  with  it.  We 
sat  down  near  the  nest,  and  waited  for  the  bird  to 
show  herself.  Presently  she  appeared  not  four  yards 
away,  and  sat  on  the  top  of  a  low  bush  for  a  few 
seconds,  then  dropped  back  to  the  thick  cover,  all 
the  time  calling  and  working  nearer  to  us.  I  caught 
sight  of  her  several  times  as  she  hopped  from  bush 
to  bush ;  but  she  seldom  showed  herself  for  long. 
I  think  it  is  always  extremely  interesting  to  look 
for  the  first  time  on  a  bird  which  is  so  little  known 
as  the  Dartford  warbler.  Our  larger,  rarer  birds  are 
generally  well  known,  or  at  least  their  habits  are, 
yet  a  small  warbler,  which  seldom  shows  itself,  and 
is  at  the  same  time  one  of  our  rarest  breeding  birds, 
seems  to  be  entirely  overlooked  by  ornithologists. 
In  my  opinion,  it  is  the  smaller  birds  which  are  the 
most  interesting. 

We  were  surprised  to  find  that  this  nest  contained 
no  eggs.  When  Mr.  Gilroy  found  it  seven  days 


156       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 

before,  it  seemed  to  be  quite  ready  for  incubation 
purposes.  The  birds  had,  however,  spent  another 
week  on  their  home  ;  it  was  almost  on  the  ground 
in  a  small  clump  of  young  furze,  and  was  skilfully 
concealed. 

The  other  nest  was  about  thirty  minutes'  walk 
from  this  one,  and"  as  we  went  over  the  yellow  furze- 
covered  heath  the  wind  seemed  to  increase  in  force, 
and  I  was  afraid  photography  would  be  impossible. 
At  length  we  reached  the  nest  in  a  patch  of  furze 
at  the  top  of  a  hill.  On  moving  the  branches  aside 
and  looking  in,  we  were  greatly  disappointed  to 
find  it  empty.  Had  some  collector  been  there  before 
us,  or  had  a  robber-bird  taken  the  eggs  ?  All  doubt, 
however,  was  set  at  rest,  for  the  single  egg  was  found 
to  have  dropped  through  the  bottom  of  the  flimsy 
little  structure,  but  luckily  was  not  broken.  This 
nest  was  very  lightly  built  and  consisted  only  of 
a  few  dried  grasses  made  cup-shaped.  I  think 
the  bird  must  have  laid  the  egg  before  the  nest 
was  ready,  or  the  strong  winds,  which  had  been 
prevalent  for  a  week,  destroyed  the  nest  to  a  certain 
extent,  and  caused  the  egg  to  slip  through.  How- 
ever, we  placed  the  egg  back  in  the  nest,  and  tried 
to  photograph  it,  but  with  little  success.  One  of 
us  held  the  furze  bush,  another  held  my  focussing 
cloth  to  keep  the  wind  off,  while  I  waited  with 
pneumatic  ball  in  hand  to  give  the  necessary  ex- 


NEST   AND    EGG   OF    DARTFORD   WARBLER 


158       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

posure  of  one  second.  But  any  lull  in  the  wind 
seemed  as  if  it  would  not  come.  I  believe  it 
increased  in  force.  The  light  was  dull,  and  con- 
sequently I  had  to  use  my  lens  at  full  aperture, 
and  could  not  get  very  good  definition,  owing  to 
being  so  close  to  the  nest.  I  was  eventually,  after 
a  lengthy  wait,  able  to  expose  a  few  plates,  two  of 
which  are  here  shown. 

After  taking  these  we  searched  for  other  nests, 
but  were  unsuccessful  in  rinding  any.  I  had,  how- 
ever, a  splendid  view  of  a  male  Dartford  warbler. 
He  was  perched  on  the  top  of  a  low  holly  bush, 
only  one  or  two  yards  away,  and  I  was  delighted 
to  hear  his  song.  This  was  an  extremely  pretty 
example  of  avian  music,  lasting  only  about  eight 
seconds,  yet  for  pureness  of  tone,  equal  to  any 
other  of  our  warblers.  It  is  repeated  at  intervals 
of  about  half  a  minute,  sometimes  from  the  same 
bush,  but  more  often  from  different  stations.  The 
Dartford  warbler  is  seldom  seen  on  the  wing,  it 
moves  from  bush  to  bush  in  a  skulking  way,  and 
does  not  often  show  itself.  It  is  very  confiding, 
and  does  not  seem  to  mind  anyone  approaching 
to  within  two  yards.  I  hope  before  long  to  find 
out  more  about  the  habits  of  this  little-known  bird. 
The  egg  is  white,  sometimes  of  a  greenish  or  bufftsh 
shade,  spotted  mostly  at  the  larger  end  with  dark- 
brown  spots,  and  much  resembles  those  of  the 
whitethroat. 


THE  DARTFORD  WARBLER    159 

The  Dartford  warbler  should  possess  a  very  special 
interest  to  British  bird  lovers,  because  it  is  a  species 
which  was  first  discovered  in  this  country.  During 
the  spring  of  1773  a  pair  were  shot  on  a  heath 
near  Dartford,  hence  the  bird's  name.  It  is  a 
resident  in  this  country  throughout  the  year,  and 
is  nowhere  of  a  migratory  character.  If  it  was  not 
for  severe  winters,  which  we  sometimes  experience, 
this  warbler  would  no  doubt  increase.  I  know  that 
it  still  breeds  in  several  of  our  English  counties, 
but  the  exact  localities  must,  for  obvious  reasons, 
remain  a  close  secret. 


THE    PINNACLES 


X 


The   Fame   Islands   and   their   Birds 

IT  has  been  stated  that  the  Fame  Islands  have 
been  overdone  by  bird  photographers.  If  we 
judged  by  the  number  who  visit  these  famous  isles 
with  cameras,  I  think  this  assertion  would  be  correct ; 
but  in  point  of  fact  only  few  of  the  pictures  obtained 
are  ever  seen  by  the  general  public,  while  the  great 
majority  of  people  do  not  even  know  where  the 
attractive  little  islands  are. 

If  we  take  a  map  of  England  and  look  on  the 
Northumberland  coast,  we  see  several  dots  close  to 
the  shore.  On  some  maps  these  are  marked  as 

160 


FARNE  ISLANDS  AND  THEIR  BIRDS    161 

"  The  Staples,"  and  on  others  as  "  Fern  Islands " ; 
but  Fame  Islands  is  their  popular  name.  The 
largest  of  the  group  is  Fame  Island  itself,  and 
this  is  about  two  and  a  half  miles  from  the  main- 
land. On  its  eastern  side  are  precipitous  black 
basaltic  cliffs  between  eighty  and  ninety  feet  high  ; 
the  north-west  is  open  to  the  sea,  and  a  small 
sandy  bay  forms  a  convenient  landing-place.  The 
main  island  is  about  sixteen  acres  in  area.  Along 
the  whole  of  one  side  is  the  lighthouse,  with  its 
adjacent  buildings.  Just  above  the  bay  stands  a 
small  chapel,  supposed  to  be  about  seven  cen- 
turies old  ;  and  near  this  is  St.  Cuthbert's  Tower, 
built  about  the  year  1500.  The  small  chapel 
and  its  immediate  surroundings  are  full  of  interest ; 
a  low  wall  surrounds  the  two  buildings.  The 
chapel  stands  on  the  supposed  site  of  the  hut 
in  which  St.  Cuthbert  lived  from  the  year  676 
until  685.  He  then  left  the  island  and  went  a 
little  farther  north  to  Lindisfarne,  or  Holy  Island, 
for  a  short  period  ;  but  yearning  for  solitude  he 
again  returned,  and  died  on  Fame  or  House  Island 
on  the  2Oth  of  March,  687,  in  the  small  hut  which 
had  been  built  with  his  own  hands.  His  body 
was  removed  to  Lindisfarne,  and  remained  there 
until  875,  when  the  monks,  fleeing  from  the 
fury  of  the  Danes,  carried  the  coffin  on  -their 
shoulders.  After  many  wanderings  it  found  a 


1 62       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

resting-place  at  Chester -le- Street  in  883.  From 
here  it  was  removed  to  Ripon,  and  in  the  year 
995  it  was  taken  to  Durham,  where  it  remained 
until  the  Reformation.  This  small  chapel  on  Fame 
Island  is  only  one  out  of  many  dedicated  to  the 
great  English  saint.  Many  other  churches  bearing 
his  name  are  found  in  the  wide  tract  of  country 
between  the  Trent  and  Mersey  on  the  south,  and 
the  Forth  and  Clyde  on  the  north. 

Only  one  service  a  year  is  held  in  this  church — 
indeed,  I  heard  that  three  years  had  elapsed  since 
this  important  event  last  took  place.  The  interior 
is  filled  with  old  oak  carving,  which,  it  seems,  was 
placed  in  the  chapel  some  years  after  it  was  built. 
There  are  a  few  scattered  gravestones  and  traces 
of  monastic  buildings  round  and  about  the  church 
and  tower.  Several  antiquities  have  been  found, 
including  a  stone  coffin  said  to  have  once  held 
the  remains  of  St.  Cuthbert.  One  of  these  stone 
coffins  is  to  be  seen  in  nearly  every  place  which 
St.  Cuthbert  frequented,  but  I  believe  the  original 
is  still  in  Durham  Cathedral. 

There  is  one  thing  of  great  attraction  to  visitors  in 
the  chapel,  and  this  is  the  tablet  to  the  memory  of 
Grace  Darling.  It  was  among  this  group  of  islands 
that  the  Forfarshire  was  wrecked  in  1838,  and  we  all 
know  the  story  how  Grace  Darling  and  her  father 
proceeded  to  the  wreck  in  an  open  boat  during  the 


FARNE  ISLANDS  AND  THEIR  BIRDS    163 

storm,  and  by  desperate  efforts  saved  the  lives  of  nine 
persons.  We  visited  the  very  spot  where  this  ship 
was  wrecked,  and  in  calm  weather  the  currents  and 
swell  of  the  sea  are  not  to  be  despised,  and  we  were 
left  to  imagine  what  it  would  be  during  a  storm. 
The  more  we  became  acquainted  with  this  rough 
coast,  the  more  we  were  convinced,  that  this  was  one 
of  the  bravest  acts  ever  performed  by  any  in  the  long 
roll  of  England's  daughters  who  have  risked  their 
lives  for  the  sake  of  saving  the  lives  of  others. 

The  surface  of  Fame  Island,  apart  from  the  cliffs, 
is  covered  with  grass,  sea-campion,  nettles,  and  many 
other  wild  flowers.  There  are  few  birds  on  this 
island.  The  cliffs  have  only  a  few  pairs  of  starlings 
on  them.  Rock-pipits  breed  in  fair  numbers,  con- 
cealing their  nests  among  the  long  thin  grass.  One 
pair  of  skylarks  bred  there  last  spring,  and  the  male 
bird  was  often  heard  singing  high  up  over  his 
romantic  island  home.  Two  meadow-pipits  had  a 
nest  near  St.  Cuthbert's  Tower,  and  one  would  often 
soar  above  the  tower,  then  descend  and  finish  his 
song  from  the  top  of  the  old  walls.  It  was  interest- 
ing to  find  that  a  pair  of  swallows  had  taken  up 
their  abode  for  the  first  time  in  a  small  shed  near  the 
tower,  and  when  we  were  there,  at  the  latter  part  of 
June,  they  had  a  nest,  and  there  was  every  hope 
of  their  bringing  up  their  family.  We  found  a 
blackbird's  nest,  and  saw  young  birds  flying  about 


ROCK-PIPIT  S    NEST 


FARNE  ISLANDS  AND  THEIR  BIRDS    165 

the  rocks.  Tree-pipits  had  a  nest  of  young  on  the 
grassy  slope  which  ascends  from  the  only  landing- 
place — these  were  always  interesting.  There  are 
many  rabbits  on  the  island,  and  these  would  some- 
times go  near  the  tree-pipit's  nest,  and  we  had  ocular 
proof  of  the  pipits  being  plucky  little  birds.  Once 
one  of  them  flew  at  a  rabbit,  settled  on  its  head  while 
it  was  running,  and  inflicted  a  few  vigorous  pecks, 
after  which  it  gave  one  or  two  drives  with  its  little 
beak  into  the  animal's  back,  and  then  left  the  poor 
bolting  bunny  more  scared  than  hurt.  All  rabbits 
which  came  too  near  their  nest  were  attacked,  and  it 
was  pretty  to  see  these  bold  birds — looking  diminu- 
tive enough  by  the  larger  animals — scolding  and 
fluttering  at  the  rabbits-; 

The  rabbits  were  of  a  very  mixed  breed ;  there 
were  several  colours — brown,  black,  white,  a  kind 
of  pale  blue  or  grey,  sandy,  and  some  other  shades, 
some  of  which  were  very  curious.  One  having  black 
ears  and  nose,  while  the  body  was  white,  was  evi- 
dently the  belle  of  the  colony,  for  she  seemed  to 
have  more  admiring  followers  than  others.  I  must 
not  forget  to  mention  one  other  important  animal — 
a  donkey,  which  roamed  over  the  island  and  seemed 
to  consider  himself  monarch  of  his  rocky  home. 
This  was  no  ordinary  donkey— in  fact,  he  was  the 
most  extraordinary  member  of  his  species  I  have 
ever  seen.  His  chief  delight  was  to  drink  beer  and  to 


1 66       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

chew  tobacco,  and  he  was  quite  an  adept  in  the  latter 
undesirable  practice.  I  often  gave  him  a  portion  of 
mine,  and  his  relish  of  the  flavour  left  nothing  to  be 
desired,  and  he  would,  in  sheer  gratitude,  follow  me 
about  all  over  the  island.  After  a  time,  however,  the 
weed  began  to  tell  upon  him  ;  he  would  become 


LESSER    BLACK-BACKED    GULLS 

lively,  or  too  much  excited.  When  in  this  state  he 
would  rush  at  one  full  speed,  stop  cbout  two  yards 
off,  and  then  turn  and  kick  violently  in  a  way  likely 
to  cause  consternation  to  timid  souls  who  did  not 
know  his  innocent  ways.  He  would  then  go  off,  and 
soon  return  again  at  express  speed  ;  and  once  or 
twice  I  had  serious  reasons  for  thinking  he  was 


FARNE  ISLANDS  AND  THEIR  BIRDS    167 

"going"  for  me.  A  party  of  tourists  visited  the 
island  one  afternoon,  and  one  of  them,  not  knowing 
his  ass-ship's  tastes,  held  out  about  three  ounces  of 
"twist"  for  him  to  smell.  Greatly  to  his  discom- 
fiture, and  the  donkey's  delight,  this  was  at  once 
snatched  away,  and  the  happy  creature  trotted  off 
to  a  quiet  corner  to  enjoy  the  largest  and  most 
luxuriant  "chew"  he  had  ever  indulged  in.  After  a 
time  he  came  back,  and  a  lady  tourist  patted  him 
and  put  her  arm  round  his  neck ;  but  no  sooner 
was  he  thus  caressed  than  he  resumed  his  exciting 
exercises,  so  the  visitors,  judging  that  discretion  was 
the  better  part  of  valour,  left  the  island.  After  their 
departure  the  donkey's  antics  would  have  delighted 
Lord  George  Sanger  himself. 

A  few  years  ago  there  used  to  be  a  goat  on  the 
island,  and  a  very  amusing  tale  was  told  me  about 
this  knowing  animal.  Someone  arranged  to  sleep  in 
St.  Cuthbert's  Tower,  and  his  friends  jokingly  told 
him  that  he  would  be  sure  to  see  the  mediaeval  saint's 
ghost  when  darkness  fell.  However,  he  laughed  at 
such  a  suggestion,  and  made  out  that  he  was  not 
afraid.  At  dusk  he  took  a  walk  round  the  island, 
and  stayed  out  until  it  was  dark.  On  his  return  to 
the  tower  he  repeatedly  heard  a  rustling  noise  near, 
and  then  thought  he  saw  a  shadowy  form  go  past 
once  or  twice,  and  by  the  time  he  reached  the  door 
of  the  tower  his  nerves  were  to  some  extent  upset. 


1 68       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

Before  he  ascended  the  steep,  narrow  staircase,  he 
listened  to  some  little  noise  which  sounded  as  if 
someone  was  moving  about  upstairs.  He  knew  there 
was  no  other  person  there,  and  thus  became  still 
more  frightened.  At  length  the  noise  ceased,  and  he 
reached  the  room  at  the  top  of  the  first  flight  of 
stone  steps,  and  again  stood  still  and  listened.  The 
next  minute  he  was  upon  his  back,  exceedingly 
terrified,  but  not  much  hurt.  The  goat  had  ascended 
the  stairs  before  him,  and  as  soon  as  he  reached 
the  room  the  creature,  in  supposed  self-defence, 
"  rammed "  him  in  the  stomach  and  knocked  him 
down.  His  first  impression  was,  naturally,  that  St. 
Cuthbert  was  bent  on  killing  an  unbidden  intruder, 
but  on  rising  to  receive  another  attack  he  discovered 
who  was  the  assailant,  and  drove  the  unfriendly 
animal  downstairs. 

In  the  little  sandy  bay  which  affords  a  landing- 
place  there  was  a  family  of  birds  which  were  of 
never- failing  interest.  These  were  ringed  plovers. 
Their  eggs  were  laid  on  the  sand  just  above  high- 
water  mark,  and  when  we  arrived  their  young  were 
nearly  full  grown.  I  used  to  lie  amongst  the  grass 
to  watch  these  elegant  birds,  and  having  a  pair  of 
powerful  binoculars  I  saw  them  as  if  they  were  within 
arm's  length. 

The  two  parent  birds  are  together,  "  working " 
round  large  stones  left  uncovered  by  the  receding 


1 70       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 

waves.  Pieces  of  seaweed  are  moved  by  their  beaks, 
insects  are  picked  up  rapidly,  and  even  these  tiny 
creatures,  which  the  birds  are  looking  after,  can  be 
seen  as  these  quickly  run  about,  until  the  bird's  beak 
darts  at  them  and  they  disappear.  I  begin  to  wonder 
how  many  more  will  be  captured  when  a  squeaky 
pee-pee-pee  is  heard,  and  one  of  the  parents  runs 
across  the  small  sandy  stretch,  calling  a  musical 
/«-//',  pu-li,  and  goes  direct  to  one  of  the  young, 
which  is  hiding  behind  a  rock,  and  feeds  it ;  then 
back  he  comes  again,  picking  up  insects  as  he  goes 
towards  the  water.  A  lesser  black-backed  gull  beats 
slowly  up-shore,  keeping  close  to  the  rocks ;  he  has 
seen  or  heard  the  young  plovers,  and  means  captur- 
ing one  if  possible.  As  soon  as  he  nears  them  one 
of  the  parent  plovers  flies  at  full  speed  at  the  great 
robber,  strikes  him  while  passing,  then  doubles  in  his 
flight,  and  before  the  gull  is  able  to  leave,  another 
little  beak-thrust  is  sent  home.  Kar-raz  hoarsely 
cries  the  intruder,  as  he  flies  seawards,  with  the  angry 
plover  following,  still  striking  above  and  again  below, 
and  then,  when  he  is  fairly  driven  away,  the  plover 
returns,  sits  on  a  prominent  rock  for  a  few  minutes, 
gives  out  his  musical  whistle,  and  resumes  the  feeding 
of  the  young.  Two  of  these  latter  are  sitting  on 
a  rock,  and  at  length  another  gull  is  seen  to  be 
approaching.  This  time  both  parents  "  go  for  "  the 
would-be  robber,  and  look  like  two  white  darts  shot 


FARNE  ISLANDS  AND  THEIR  BIRDS    171 

from  a  bow;  indeed,  it  is  difficult  to  follow  their 
flight,  but  they  again  drive  the  gull  away,  and  then 
return  to  their  young,  which  remained  in  hiding 
while  their  parents  were  chasing  the  enemies.  This 
performance  was  repeated  many  times,  and  it  was 
always  interesting,  chiefly  because  it  proved  what  I 
have  often  noticed  as  a  feature  of  daily  life  in  bird- 
land — the  larger  the  bird  the  greater  coward  he 
seems  to  be. 

I  think  I  have  no\v  mentioned  all  of  the  birds 
which  were  found  on  Fame  Island  during  our  visit. 
There  was  one  species  which  was  very  conspicuous 
by  their  absence,  these  were  our  old  friends  the 
sparrows. 

Not  far  from  the  larger  island  are  two  smaller 
ones,  connected  at  low  tide  by  a  fairly  wide  barrier 
of  shingle,  and  these,  the  Noxes  and  Wideopens,  are, 
perhaps,  the  most  remarkable  and  interesting  to  the 
ordinary  visitor.  Thousands  of  terns  frequent  the 
islands ;  the  air  seems  to  be  alive  with  these  graceful 
birds — the  sea-swallows  of  the  fisherfolk.  With  a 
good  field-glass  the  birds  from  the  mainland,  two  and 
a  half  miles  away,  look  like  flecks  of  silver  spray  as 
they  sail  in  thousands  over  the  sparkling  sea  around 
the  islands.  On  our  landing  it  is  truly  a  wonderful 
sight,  but  it  is  not  until  we  really  get  among  the 
birds  that  we  begin  to  realise  what  vast  numbers  of 
them  there  are.  With  a  deafening  chorus  of  cries, 


i;2       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 


ARCTIC  TERNS'  EGGS 


flock  after  flock  rises  from  the  sea-campion  and 
circles  round  and  about ;  and  then  at  our  feet,  eggs 
are  everywhere,  and  it  is  difficult  to  avoid  treading 
upon  them.  This  is  not  so  much  the  case  among 


FARNE  ISLANDS  AND  THEIR  BIRDS    173 

the  campion,  but  nearer  the  shore  the  eggs  resemble 
in  a  remarkable  way  the  pebbles  and  seaweed.  There 
are  three  kinds  of  terns  found  here — the  arctic, 
sandwich,  and  roseate.  The  last-named  is  rare,  and 
can  only  be  recognised  by  one  who  is  acquainted 
with  the  species. 

Although  we  kept  a  sharp  look-out  we  did  not  see 
any  of  these.  The  arctic  and  sandwich  to  a  certain 
extent  keep  separate.  There  are  more  of  the  arctic 
terns  on  the  Wideopens,  while  on  the  Noxes  we 
find  a  great  many  of  the  sandwich  terns.  In  places 
the  latter's  eggs  are  laid  so  close  together,  that  at  a 
distance,  sitting  birds  look  like  a  white  sheet.  I  was 
able  to  include  as  many  as  sixteen  nests  of  these  on 
one  half-plate  negative.  I  tried  to  obtain  photographs 
of  both  birds  sitting.  On  one  morning  I  placed  my 
camera  near  a  group  of  arctic  terns'  eggs,  and 
arranged  the  electric  wires  over  one  nest  so  that 
when  the  bird  returned  she  would  release  the  shutter. 
Three  attempts  were  made,  and  on  each  occasion  the 
bird  returned,  but  instead  of  sitting  at  once  she  very 
carefully  removed  the  fine  wires.  I  thought  that  I 
set  these  so  that  if  either  was  touched  it  would 
connect  the  circuit ;  but  this  knowing  little  bird 
managed  to  lift  the  wires  on  all  three  occasions 
without  letting  one  touch  the  other.  It  was  really 
remarkable  how  she  did  this.  Being  unable  to 
obtain  a  picture  in  this  way,  I  attached  about 


EGGS   OF   SANDWICH   TERNS.      l6   NESTS,    32   EGGS 


FARNE  ISLANDS  AND  THEIR  BIRDS    175 

forty  yards  of  wire  to  the  electric  shutter,  and  took 
Miese  down  to  the  rocks,  and  waited  there  myself 
until  a  good  number  of  birds  were  sitting,  when 
I  connected  the  wires,  and  so  released  the  shutter. 
This  should  have  ensured  a  good  photograph ;  but 
luck  was  again  against  me.  For  some  reason  the 
camera  had  moved,  and  the  birds,  about  twenty  in 
all,  were  found  to  be  blurred  when  the  plate  was 
developed.  I  think  one  or  more  of  the  terns  must 
have  settled  on  the  heap  of  seaweed  which  covered 
the  apparatus,  and  so  moved  the  camera  at  the 
critical  moment  of  exposure.  With  the  sandwich 
terns  I  was  a  little  more  fortunate,  but  even  in  this 
case  only  one  bird  was  found  to  show  on  the  plate. 
In  my  hiding-place  I  could  not  see  the  birds,  and  so 
had  to  rely  on  a  signal  from  a  keeper,  who  was  lying 
on  a  rock  some  eighty  yards  away.  He  must  have 
been  watching  the  wrong  group,  for  when  he  signalled 
there  were  thirty  or  more  sitting  on  the  particular 
spot  which  he  was  looking  at.  While  I  was  in  hiding 
a  ringed  plover  came  and  fed  near,  not  two  yards  off, 
and  I  had  a  long  and  delightful  view  of  this  bird. 
We  found  a  ringed  plover's  nest,  with  two  eggs,  in 
the  midst  of  a  group  of  sandwich  terns'  nests — 
indeed,  the  ringed  plover  seemed  fairly  common ; 
this  evidently  was  the  second  brood  of  this  pair 
of  birds. 

Every  step  we  take  seems  to  rouse  hundreds  of 


i;6      HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

terns  from  their  nests.  Some,  bolder  than  others, 
swoop  near  in  their  well-meant  endeavours  to  drive 
us  away.  When  really  in  the  ,  midst  of  this  great 


EGGS   OF   RINGED   PLOVER 


feathered  colony  it  is  difficult  to  hear  the  human 
voice,  the  thousands  of  bird-calls  drown  all  other 
sounds.  But  as  we  walk  back  towards  the  shore  the 
birds  settle  down  to  their  respective  nests,  and  only 
the  males,  or  those  not  sitting  on  eggs,  remain. 


FARNE  ISLANDS  AND  THEIR  BIRDS    177 

Many  of  the  flying  birds  have  small  silvery  fish  in 
their  beaks.  Among  the  crowd  it  is  hard  to  watch 
an  individual  bird  as  it  goes  to  its  nest,  but  by 
exercising  patience  I  was  able  to  see  a  sandwich 
tern  feed  a  sitting  mate.  This  bird  flew  over  and 
round  about  the  nest,  seeming  as  though  he  was 
undecided  which  really  was  his  mate.  Then  he 
would  settle  near  the  nest,  and  the  hen  rose  and 
went  towards  him,  when  he  seemed  to  be  in  a 
playful  mood,  for  he  flew  away  again,  still  retaining 
the  fish,  then  twice  more  settled,  until  at  last  he  gave 
the  hen  the  food,  and  flew  off  in  search  of  more.  It 
was  interesting  to  see  them  capture  fish.  Perhaps  a 
dozen  or  more  would  be  beating  a  certain  stretch  of 
water ;  then  if  a  fish  was  seen  the  nearest  bird  would 
drop,  and  sometimes  go  almost  completely  under 
water.  If,  as  sometimes  happened,  a  shoal  of  fish 
came  near  the  surface,  hundreds  of  terns  would  con- 
gregate overhead,  and  for  a  short  time  sport  was 
really  exciting. 

As  we  leave  the  Noxes  an  oyster-catcher  is  seen 
on  the  shore.  His  vermilion  beak  and  pink  legs 
and  well-marked  body  stand  out  well  against  the 
dark,  water-washed  rocks,  and  form  a  striking  con- 
trast. There  are  several  pairs  on  the  Noxes,  and 
also  on  the  Wideopens.  On  the  latter  we  found  a 
nest  among  sea-campion,  while  on  the  former  island 
the  eggs  were  laid  on  the  bare  shingle,  or  on  sea- 
M 


178       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

weed.  When  we  land  on  the  Wideopens  it  is  a 
repetition  of  the  scene  on  the  Noxes,  except  that 
on  this  island  there  are  a  few  puffins  and  lesser 
black-backed  gulls.  There  was  one  greater  black- 


OYSTER-CATCHER'S  NEST 


backed  gull.  This  bird  had  a  broken  wing,  and 
not  being  able  to  fly  it  roamed  about,  and  made 
sad  havoc  among  the  terns'  eggs,  which,  with  the 
young  terns,  were  its  only  food.  I  think  it  success- 
fully eluded  the  keepers  the  whole  season.  A 


FARNE  ISLANDS  AND  THEIR  BIRDS    179 


wounded    bird   such   as   this   can    do   an   enormous 

amount   of  harm.     It   is   impossible   to   chase   it   if 

seen,  for  if  anyone  was    to   commence   running   or 

walking  at  random 

over     the     island 

they  would  break 

large      quantities 

of    eggs.      When 

on    Fame   Island 

we     often     saw 

clouds     of    terns 

rise  from  different 

spots  at  different 

times     on     the 

Wideopens,     and 

although  we  could 

not  see  the  gull, 

owing  to  the  tall 

campion,  yet  we 

judged  that  these 

alarms     signified 

that    the    robber 

was     making     a 

raid.   Eider  ducks 

breed     on     both 

islands ;    the    majority   of    these   seemed    to    prefer 

nesting   in    the    open,  but   a   few  nests  were  found 

amongst  sea-campion. 


OYSTER-CATCHER  S    NEST 


iSo       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 


It   was   a   grand    birdland    sight   to    watch   these 

islands  and  their 
feathered  inhabi- 
tants from  our 
boat,  as  we  lay 
a  short  distance 
from  the  shore. 
The  birds  which 
swarmed  in  the 
air  in  every  di- 
rection when  we 
were  among  them 
now  are  settling 
down,  not  more 
than  a  few  hun- 
dreds are  left, 
sailing  in  graceful 
curves  over  their 
nests,  and  al- 
though the  com- 
bined chorus  of 
their  cries  makes 
a  considerable 
noise,  yet  it  is  as 
silencewhen  com- 
pared with  what 
it  was.  Oyster- 
EIDER  DUCK  SITTING  catchers  are  walk- 


FARNE  ISLANDS  AND  THEIR  BIRDS    181 

ing  along  the  shore,  and  probing  with  their  beaks  in 
the  shallow  pools.  Two  eider  ducks,  disturbed  off 
their  nests  by  our  passing,  are  seen  walking— or  we 
might  call  it  crawling — back  to  their  eggs.  Eider 


NEST   OF    EIDER    DUCK 


ducks  sit  very  closely ;  but  I  found  that  if  we  went 
too  near  they  scrambled  off  their  downy  nests,  and 
half  ran,  half  fluttered  away.  The  oft  -  repeated- 
statement  to  the  effect  that  anyone  could  stroke  the 
backs  of  eider  ducks  as  they  sat,  I  found  to  be  a 


182       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 

fable,  as  far  as  the  Fame  Island  birds  were  con- 
cerned. Just  before  leaving  their  nest  they  squirt 
an  evil-smelling  liquid  over  the-  eggs,  no  doubt  to 
prevent  enemies  from  touching  them.  Lesser  black- 
backed  gulls,  however,  will  take  the  eggs,  whether 
covered  with  this  liquid  or  not.  It  would,  indeed, 
have  to  be  a  very  terrible  smell  to  keep  one  of  these 
persistent  robbers  away.  Numbers  of  arctic  terns 
are  now  settling  on  their  eggs  just  above  high-water 
mark,  and  in  places  they  form  white  rows.  Ringed 
plovers  are  feeding  near  the  water,  running  in  and 
out  among  the  larger  pebbles.  As  we  row  away,  the 
cries  of  the  birds  become  fainter,  and  when  again 
we  land  on  Fame  Island  only  the  terns,  sweeping 
gracefully  over  the  two  islands  like  white  swallows, 
can  be  distinguished,  while  the  islands — the  higher 
covered  with  flowers,  and  the  lower  with  seaweed — 
remain  pictured  in  our  memory  as  the  finest  home 
of  the  terns  we  have  seen  in  the  British  Isles. 

A  sail  of  a  little  over  half  an  hour  brings  us  to 
the  more  distant  islands.  The  shores  of  these  are 
in  places  rugged  and  rocky,  and  as  we  proceed  we 
have  pointed  out  to  us  the  spot  were  the  Forfarshire 
ran  aground. 

We  land  on  the  island  adjoining  the  well-known 
Pinnacles,  and  the  first  birds  seen  after  scrambling 
up  the  sides  are  lesser  black-backed  gulls.  These  are 
here  in  hundreds,  and  the  farther  we  go  on  to  the 


FARNE  ISLANDS  AND  THEIR  BIRDS    183 

island  the  more  of  them  we  see.  While  I  was 
photographing  a  little  group  of  the  gulls  on  the 
rocks,  I  saw  one 
walking  sedately 
towards  me,  and 
I  pointed  my 
camera  at  it ;  but 
before  I  could  ex- 
pose a  plate  this 
bird  approached 
a  nest  belonging 
to  a  neighbour 
gull  and  pecked 
a  great  hole  in 
the  side  of  one 
of  the  eggs  and 
swallowed  the 
contents.  All 
three  eggs  were 
quickly  devoured, 
and  then  the  thief 
walked  away, 
looking  quite 
satisfied  and 
chuckling  in  a 
contented  kind  of 

way.  The  owners  of  the  stolen  eggs  flew  down,  and  as 
they  swooped  by  uttered  their  harsh  cries,  but  the  thief 


NEST    OF    LESSER    BLACK-BACKED    GULL 


1 84       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

rose  and  was  soon  lost  among  the  crowd  circling  above. 
The  lesser  black-backed  gull  will  guard  its  own  eggs 
with  great  courage,  but  if  an  opportunity  offers  it  will 
show  no  scruples  in  taking  those  in  the  nest  nearest 
to  its  own.  This  island  is  covered  on  its  higher 
ground  with  sea-campion,  and  among  this  most  of 
the  gulls  have  their  nests ;  but  many  make  their 
nests  on  the  rocks. 

If  we  trespass  on  their  breeding  quarters  the  sitting 
birds  fly  up  in  hundreds,  when  they  form  a  striking 
contrast  to  the  graceful  terns.  Still,  their  more 
heavy  flight  and  less  graceful  movements  are  very 
attractive,  and  their  great  breadth  of  wing  and  the 
number  flying  around  seem  to  hide  the  sky  more 
effectively  than  the  smaller  sea-swallows.  The  nests 
built  in  the  fissures  of  rocks  are  much  more  sub- 
stantial than  those  made  amongst  the  vegetation  ;  in 
the  latter  place  only  a  slight  trodden-down  space  is 
used  to  lay  the  eggs  in.  I  tried  without  much 
success  to  obtain  photographs  with  my  electrical  ap- 
paratus of  gulls  sitting,  but  found  that  it  was  easier 
to  secure  pictures  of  them  standing  near  their  nests. 
The  birds  seem  sufficiently  inquisitive  to  prompt  them 
to  examine  anything  strange  that  is  put  up  among 
their  nests.  We  set  our  cameras  and  hid  ourselves 
in  the  ruins  of  a  small  stone  tower,  and  waited  for 
more  than  an  hour  for  some  of  the  birds  to  return;  but 
although  several  came  up  to  our  shelter  and  cautiously 


FARNE  ISLANDS  AND  THEIR  BIRDS    185 


HERRING-GULL'S  NEST 


peered  in,  none  of  them  were  bold  enough  to  sit  on 
their  eggs.  When  near  the  nest  they  stand  with 
necks  stretched  to  their  highest  and  keep  perfectly 
motionless  for  five  minutes  at  a  time,  then  with  a  few 


1 86       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

short,  guttural  notes  take  another  step  forward  and 
stand  as  before.  There  were  two  eider  duck's  eggs 
near,  which  had  been  left  exposed,  and  we  had  to 
watch  these  to  see  that  the  gulls  did  not  steal  them. 
Happily  the  duck  soon  returned,  and  her  eggs  were 
not  disturbed,  although  more  than  one  gull  had  cast 
longing  eyes  upon  them. 

We  wanted  to  find  a  herring-gull's  nest;  but  as  the 
two  species  lay  eggs  which  are  so  much  alike  that 
it  is  impossible  to  distinguish  them,  it  was  necessary 
to  watch  the  groups  of  sitting  birds  to  see  if  we 
could  see  the  lighter  back  of  the  herring-gull. 

One  of  the  watchers,  who  live  on  these  islands 
during  the  spring  and  summer,  remarked  that  very 
few  herring-gulls  were  breeding  there  during  that 
season  ;  but  after  most  of  the  flying  birds  had 
settled  we  recognised  one  of  this  species  lower  down 
among  the  rocks.  It  was  impossible  to  get  a  photo- 
graph, as  she  left  before  we  were  near  enough.  The 
nest  of  three  eggs  was  quite  surrounded  with  those 
of  lesser  black-backed  gulls,  and  a  nest  of  the  latter 
species  contained  one  abnormally  large  egg  and  one 
extremely  small  one.  This  was  photographed  ;  but 
in  the  picture  the  difference  which  in  the  original 
was  so  marked,  does  not  show  in  the  same  degree. 
The  crowds  of  gulls  standing  among  the  sea-campion 
made  a  pretty  picture;  but  to  see  these  birds  to 
the  best  advantage  they  need  to  be  on  the  black 


FARNE  ISLANDS  AND  THEIR  BIRDS    187 

rocks,  the   darker   background    shows   them    better, 
and  their  size  is  more  apparent. 

The  chief  attraction  of  this  group  of  islands  is 
undoubtedly   the    Pinnacles.      One   must   see   these 


LESSER   BLACK-BACKED  GULL'S   NEST 

fully  to  appreciate  them.  The  four  high  rocks, 
with  their  table-like  tops,  packed  tight  with  the 
masses  of  guillemots,  is  a  sight  never  to  be  forgotten. 
Do  the  birds  sit  on  their  own  eggs  ?  is  a  question 
we  ask  ourselves,  but  it  seems  impossible  that  they 


iSS       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 

can  do  so,  yet  some  authorities  say  they  do.  To 
look  upon  this  vast  feathered  crowd,  to  take  note 
how  some  birds  settle  on  the  backs  of  those  around, 
and  then  slowly  shuffle  and  squeeze  themselves 
amongst  their  fellows,  makes  one  wonder  if  it  is 
really  possible  for  each  to  know  where  their  egg 
is !  It  seems  to  me  incredible  that  they  can  know, 
wonderful  as  their  instinct  may  be.  If  those  sitting 
near  the  sides  are  suddenly  alarmed,  it  is  no  un- 
common thing  to  see  several  of  the  large  eggs 
dashed  over  the  rock-side,  knocked  down  by  the 
birds  in  their  excited  scramble  to  leave.  The 
fisherfolk  of  these  parts —  and  fishermen  as  a  rule 
are  very  keen  observers — say  that  each  individual 
bird  always  lays  an  egg  of  the  same  colour,  and 
the  markings  year  after  year  are  somewhat  similar. 
They  do  not  simply  make  the  statement,  in  a  way 
they  apparently  prove  what  they  say.  Thus  if  an 
egg  is  taken  from  a  ledge  where  only  a  few  birds 
are  breeding,  the  next  one  laid  where  this  was 
taken  will  as  much  resemble  the  first  as  it  is  possible 
for  two  guillemot's  eggs  to  do.  It  is  also  affirmed 
that  the  same  birds  return  to  the  same  ledges  in  each 
succeeding  spring. 

Before  the  birds  on  these  islands  were  protected 
as  they  now  are,  boat-loads  of  sportsmen,  as  they 
called  themselves — devils  with  guns  would  be  a  more 
appropriate  name — often  visited  the  Pinnacles  and 


GUILLEMOTS    ON   THE    PINNACLES 


190       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 

fired  load  after  load  of  shot  into  the  packed  mass 
of  birds,   and    left    hundreds    dead,   and    still    more 


GUILLEMOT'S  EGG 


wounded,  either   on   the  rock  itself  or   floating   on 
the    water  —  left    there    to    die    after    a    miserable 


FARNE  ISLANDS  AND  THEIR  BIRDS    191 

existence  of  starvation.  In  the  majority  of  cases 
the  birds  must  have  experienced  terrible  agony. 
Sometimes  the  programme  was  opened  with  a  load 
of  shot  from  a  large  gun  which  the  steamer  carried  ; 


GUILLEMOTS  AND    KITTIWAKES 

and  with  this,  pathways  were  cut  through  the  birds. 
After  an  hour  or  so  of  this  slaughter,  which  these 
inhuman  adventurers  called  sport,  they  steamed 
away,  leaving  behind  such  a  picture  of  destruction, 
desolation,  and  agony  as  I  hope  the  British  Islands 


192       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

will  never  see  again.  If  these  fellows  have  hearts, 
they  should  look  upon  the  scene  they  leave  behind. 
Here  is  a  quotation  from  an  article  on  the  protection 
of  birds,  which  appeared  in  the  Zoologist  for  June, 
1901.  Mr.  Oxley  Grabham,  the  writer,  says:  "So- 
called  sportsmen  used  to  go  out,  on  the  opening 
day,  with  the  avowed  intention  of  firing  away  so 
many  cartridges  ;  they  never  even  troubled  to  pick 
up  one  quarter  of  what  they  shot ;  and  I  have 
witnessed  the  pitiable  sight  of  a  wounded  guillemot, 
with  a  broken  wing,  and  its  wounds  exposed  to  the 
salt  sea-water,  trying  to  clamber  up  the  cliff  with 
a  fish  in  its  bill,  to  its  starving  young  one,  many 
of  which  perished  through  the  death  or  maiming 
of  its  parents." 

Of  course  none  of  this  is  allowed  now  during 
nesting  time,  but  as  soon  as  the  close  season  is  over 
this  disgraceful  shooting  commences,  and  a  tremen- 
dous amount  of  damage  is  done.  There  are  numbers 
of  young  birds  still  on  the  rocks  when  the  1st  of 
September  arrives,  and  the  parents  keeping  with 
them  are  shot  down  in  hundreds. 

One  of  the  watchers — Robert  Darling,  nephew 
of  Grace  Darling — once  stood  on  an  adjoining  rock 
and  remonstrated  with  the  men.  Their  answer  was 
to  turn  the  large  gun  on  to  him  and  threaten  to 
fire  a  load  if  he  did  not  clear  off.  This  was  in 
the  nesting  season  before  the  islands  were  protected. 


194       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 


KITTIWAKES 


Surely  a  stop  could 
be  put  to  this  kind  of 
devilry,  which  is  still 
practised  as  soon  as 
September  1st  arrives. 
If  the  islands  could  be 
protected  for  another 
month,  it  would  give  a 
chance  to  the  birds 
to  leave,  for  then  the 
young  would  be  able 
to  look  after  them- 
selves. As  it  is,  all 
the  islands  are  visited, 
and  hundreds  of  terns 
and  the  beautiful  kitti- 
wakes  are  shot  for  the 
purpose  of  adorning 
ladies' hats.  More  often 
than  not  the  wounded 
birds  are  captured ; 
their  wings  are  then 
cut  off,  and  the  bird, 
still  alive,  is  thrown 
into  the  sea  !  If  ladies 
could  only  see  some 
of  this  terrible  work, 
which  is  only  done  to 


FARNE  ISLANDS  AND  THEIR  BIRDS    195 


supply  their  unworthy 
fancies,  I  do  not  think 
they  would  be  so  par- 
tial to  hats  adorned 
with  such  "  murderous 
millinery." 

On  the  lower  ledges 
of  the  Pinnacles,  kitti- 
wakes  are  seen  sitting; 
in  point  of  fact,wherever 
a  suitable  piece  of  rock 
juts  out,  a  bird  of  some 
kind  seems  to  take 
possession  of  it.  We 
can  get  quite  close  to 
the  kittiwakes  on  the 
larger  island,  and  as  we 
slowly  climb  towards 
them  their  shrill  cry, 
kitt  -  i  -  wake,  is  often 
uttered,  the  sound  to 
me  seeming  to  more 
resemble  give  -  it  -  air, 
give  -  it  -  air.  1 1  was 
quite  comical  when 
photographing  them  to 
hear  these  word -like 
sounds  so  often  given 


KITTIWAKES 


196       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

out ;  for  sometimes  we  could  almost  believe  that  a 
human  voice  was  speaking.  Some  sit  exceptionally 
close  ;  others  are  off  and  away  directly  they  see  us.  I 
was  able  to  secure  some  good  pictures  of  these  birds. 

The  rocks  on  the  south  side  of  this  island  are 
tenanted  by  long  rows  of  puffins.  As  we  get  near  to 
them  these  look  exceptionally  comical  as  they  bob 
up  and  down  before  flying  away.  It  is  difficult  to 
approach  near  enough  to  photograph  them  success- 
fully ;  but  by  slow  and  careful  movements  we 
succeeded  in  obtaining  some  pictures.  The  best  part 
of  the  island — or  at  least  that  part  covered  with 
grass  or  sea-campion — is  undermined  by  burrows  ; 
and  here  it  is  that  the  puffin  lays  its  single  egg.  We 
were  fortunate  enough  to  find  one  burrow,  with  the 
egg  close  to  the  entrance,  and  this  was  photographed. 
While  walking  over  these  burrows  one  often  hears 
a  scuffle  below,  and  then  sees  one  of  the  birds  dash 
out  and  fly  seawards.  One  can  get  an  idea  of  the 
number  here  by  looking  on  the  sea.  The  water 
round  about  is  dotted  all  over  with  puffins,  or  sea- 
parrots  as  they  are  often  called,  while  there  must 
be  thousands  flying  around  and  sitting  in  rows  on 
the  rocks.  The  curious  waddling  gait  of  the  sea- 
parrot  is  extremely  funny  when  a  number  are  walk- 
ing together. 

Incubation  lasts  one  month,  and  the  fledgelings 
— funny  little  creatures  covered  with  black  down — 


KITTIWAKES 


198       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,    AND   DALE 

remain  in  their  underground  home  for  at  least  three 
weeks.  Herring-fry  is  their  chief  food,  and  the 
parents  may  be  seen  with  four'  or  five  of  these  in 
their  beaks,  flying  with  great  regularity  towards  their 
burrows.  The  bright,  horny  sheath  which  covers  the 
birds'  bills  is  shed  in  the  winter  months,  and  the 
beak  is  then  considerably  smaller.  Puffins  are  expert 
divers,  and  will  remain  under  water  for  a  long  time. 
They  fly  enormous  distances  in  search  of  food — as 
much  as  fifty  miles  sometimes.  I  have  often  met  with 
numbers  of  them  in  the  North  Sea  in  the  breeding 
season  quite  forty  miles  from  the  nearest  land. 

The  birds  which  were  of  great  interest  to  me  on 
the  Fame  Islands  were  the  cormorants.  There  are 
two  colonies,  the  best- known  being  that  on  the 
Harcars,  the  other  is  on  the  most  distant  of  the 
islands — the  Megstone  Rock.  We  visited  both,  and 
photographed  the  birds  and  nests.  Those  on  the 
Harcars  are  the  best  for  the  photographer,  for  they 
allow  a  nearer  approach.  On  the  days  we  visited 
both  colonies  the  birds  were  not  in  their  most 
amiable  mood,  and  would  not  let  us  get  too  close. 
However,  by  gradually  working  closer  and  exposing 
plates  at  each  stopping  stage,  we  were  able  to  secure 
some  satisfactory  pictures.  When  all  the  birds  had 
left,  we  went  among  the  nests  and  photographed 
these,  some  being  nearly  a  yard  high  and  might  be 
called  pinnacles  of  seaweed,  others  are  only  about 


FARNE  ISLANDS  AND  THEIR  BIRDS    199 

six  inches  high.  A  few  of  the  nests  contained  young 
birds,  and  ugly,  black-skinned  creatures  they  are,  and 
during  the  first  fortnight  of  their  existence  they 


PUFFIN'S  EGG  AT  ENTRANCE  TO  BURROW 

remain  blind.  They  were  in  this  stage  when  we  saw 
them.  As  we  walked  among  them  they  tried  to 
stand  up  in  the  nests,  craned  their  necks  up,  opened 
their  beaks,  and  swayed  from  side  to  side.  I  had 
heard  so  much  about  the  stench  that  surrounds 


200       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

cormorants'  nests  that  I  was  a  little  surprised  to  find 
very  little  unpleasantness  as  I  walked  about  among 
them.  I  found  out  the  reason  afterwards,  however ; 
a  strong  wind  was  blowing  off  the  rocks  and  carried 
the  evil  smell  away. 

The  day  we  chose  for  going  to  the  Megstone  Rock 
had  an  atmosphere  perfect  enough  for  giving  an  idea 
of  the  disagreeable  effluvia  which  comes  from  the 
nests.  It  was  hot,  cloudless,  and  hardly  a  breath  of 
wind  was  felt  as  we  landed.  Our  boat  was  brought 
into  a  little  creek  and  there  anchored,  while  we  with 
our  cameras  climbed  up  the  black,  slippery  sides  of 
the  rock.  As  soon  as  we  stepped  on  to  the  rock  and 
commenced  climbing,  we  obtained  a  slight  whiff  of 
the  odours  which  awaited  us  above.  This  first  breath 
alone  would  have  turned  some  squeamish  people 
back  ;  but  such  a  trifle  as  an  evil  smell  would  not 
turn  enthusiastic  photographers  from  their  path,  and 
so  we  went  forward.  Up  flew  the  cormorants  in  a 
cloud,  calling  harshly,  while  the  fainter  cries  of  their 
young  could  be  heard.  Round  and  round  the  rock 
they  flew  in  widening  circles,  making  a  deafening 
noise  as  they  passed  by.  Now  we  are  among  the 
nests,  and  oh,  that  smell !  I  cannot  describe  it.  One 
seems  to  be  almost  able  to  see  the  ill  odours  in  the 
air.  The  stink  is  so  thick  you  are  reminded  of  what 
Londoners  say  of  their  world-famed  fogs,  "  you  could 
cut  it  with  a  knife."  As  we  walk  about  or  stop  to 


202       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

focus  a  nest,  each  breath  taken — and  we  naturally 
take  as  few  as  possible — has  a  choking  sensation. 
I  do  not  know  if  the  inventors  of  fiction  have  out- 
done what  we  experienced  in  our  morning's  work  ; 
if  not,  this  might  give  a  new  writer  some  inspiration. 
It  is  worse  than  anyone  would  expect  to  find  in  any 


CORMORANTS'  NESTS.      FARNE  ISLAND  IN  DISTANCE 

of  Nature's  byways.  The  smell  is  overpowering, 
intolerable,  sickening ;  there  are  no  words  in  oar 
extensive  vocabulary  to  describe  it.  What  is  it  that 
smells  so  horribly?  Is  it  the  rotting  seaweed  of 
which  the  nests  are  composed,  covered  as  they  are 
with  droppings  and  portions  of  decaying  fish  ? 
These  partly  account  for  the  phenomenon,  but  one 


FARNE  ISLANDS  AND  THEIR  BIRDS   203 

of  the  chief  causes  I  personally  discovered  to  my 
cost.  In  crevices,  fissures,  and  hollows  round  and 
about  the  nests,  there  is  a  dark  green  liquid  covered 
with  a  kind  of  thin  crust  or  dust,  which  very  much 
resembles  the  surrounding  rocks.  This  is,  I  think, 
the  chief  cause  of  the  unpleasant  odour.  While 


CORMORANTS 


I  was  focussing  a  nest  I  inadvertently  stepped  into 
one  of  these  horrible-smelling  pools.  I  got  out 
quicker  than  I  went  in,  but  found  that  the  mishap 
had  stirred  up  the  liquid,  thereby  causing  a  stench 
to  arise  which  far  exceeded  all  former  experiences. 
I  did  not  at  once  attempt  to  clean  my  boot,  but 
while  continuing  my  work  I  saw  to  my  horror  that 


204      HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

the  focussing  cloth  was  floating  on  one  of  these  evil- 
smelling  pools.  My  feelings  were  far  from  pleasant, 
but  I  wrung  the  cloth  out  and  went  on  with  my 
work.  During  the  twenty  minutes  we  stayed  among 
the  nests  and  birds  our  experience  was  of  a  kind 
never  to  be  forgotten.  I  left  the  rock,  went  back  to 
the  boat/  and  sat  down  feeling  thoroughly  sick. 

You  sail  slowly  away,  and  take  long,  deep  draughts 
of  the  fresh  sea  air,  but  the  smell  of  the  cormorants 
seems  to  follow.  Going  home  the  wind  rises,  and 
you  get  in  the  bows  of  the  boat  and  allow  the 
freshening  breeze  to  blow  in  your  face,  yet  the  stench 
does  not  seem  quite  to  leave  you.  You  reach  the 
inn,  enjoy  a  wash,  and  partake  of  a  good  supper ; 
for  notwithstanding  the  smell  of  the  cormorants  still 
in  your  memory,  this  cannot  quite  destroy  the  keen 
appetite  which  the  bracing  North  Sea  creates.  You 
enjoy  your  repast,  but  still  there  is  that  thought  ever 
present  that  all  would  taste  better  if  the  cormorants 
and  their  surroundings  could  be  forgotten,  but  that 
cannot  be.  Then,  after  a  walk  along  the  shore,  you 
turn  in  and  hope  for  a  good  night's  rest.  You  sleep 
as  you  expected ;  but  in  the  night  you  dream  that 
a  cormorant  is  sitting  by  your  bedside,  and  waking 
with  a  start  the  condition  of  the  atmosphere  lends 
reality  to  the  dream.  What  can  it  be?  Suddenly 
you  remember — you  forgot  to  put  your  boots  outside 
the  door.  With  a  deep  sigh  and  a  thought  of  the 


FARNE  ISLANDS  AND  THEIR  BIRDS    205 

Megstone  Rock,  you  turn,  bury  your  head  in  the 
bed-covering  and  sleep  again.  It  is  not  until  the 
welcome  morning  sun  shines  in  at  the  window  that 
you  again  wake,  then  rising  you  will  go  the  beach, 
bathe  in  the  icy  water,  well  wash  your  boots,  and 


CORMORANT  S    NEST 


then  at  last  the  smell  that  seemed  to  follow  you  has 
gone.  But  looking  seawards  you  still  see  the  Meg- 
stone  —  a  black  dot  in  the  morning  haze  —  and 
shudder,  but  still  realise  that  another  visit  must 
be  paid  to  these  birds  before  you  leave,  because 
they  are  exceedingly  interesting,  yet  you  get  even 


206       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

reconciled  to  this,  because  nearly  all  good  things 
have  their  drawbacks — especially  cormorants. 

These  birds  may  be  trained  to  catch  fish,  and  since 
the  time  of  the  Stuarts  this  has  been  a  favourite 
form  of  sport  with  some  people  in  this  country.  In 
China  large  numbers  are  used  for  this  purpose.  The 
young,  when  fed,  have  been  seen  almost  to  climb 
into  their  parents'  crops  to  take  their  supply  of  food. 
Any  sudden  excitement  causes  the  sitting  birds  to 
eject  fish  which  they  may  have  recently  swallowed. 
In  the  case  of  one  bird  1  noticed  it  opened  its 
enormous  beak,  then,  with  a  kind  of  gulp,  brought 
up  a  good-sized  fish,  which  fell  by  the  side  of  the 
nest. 

The  eggs,  which  are  from  two  to  five  in  number, 
have  a  pale  blue  ground  colour,  crusted  over  with  a 
white  chalky  substance.  When  they  have  been  sat 
on  for  some  days  they  become  stained  a  very  dark 
brown,  with  dirt  from  the  sitting  bird,  and  then  much 
resemble  the  colour  of  the  nest.  Cormorants  will 
sometimes  breed  inland ;  they  have  been  known  to 
nest  in  company  with  herons  in  trees,  while  in 
Holland  they  choose  the  swampy  meres,  building 
their  nests  with  grass,  reeds,  and  other  coarse  water- 
plants. 

On  leaving  the  cormorants  we  went  back  to  Fame 
Island,  where  we  stayed  for  two  days  and  nights, 
living  among  the  birds.  It  was  with  never-tiring 


208       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

interest  that  I  sat  on  the  rocks  and  looked  out  over 
the  group  of  islands,  each  crowded  with  bird  life. 
The  early  morning  and  evening  seemed  the  most 
attractive  times.  On  the  nearer  islands  light-winged 
terns  are  very  busy  taking  food  to  their  sitting  mates; 
some  hover  over  the  water,  and  when  a  fish  is  seen 
they  drop  and  sometimes  go  under  the  surface.  In 
calmer  water,  under  shelter  of  rocks,  eider  ducks  are 
swimming,  each  with  quite  a  large  family  just  hatched, 
the  more  handsome  males  leading  the  way,  while 
other  male  eider  ducks  are  swimming  in  farther  off 
deeper  water,  and  are  difficult  to  distinguish  from 
the  patches  of  sea-spray.  Lesser  black-backed  gulls 
are  beating  along  shore,  followed  by  smaller  terns ; 
but  in  the  evening  light  all  birds  seem  to  be  larger 
than  they  really  are. 

The  tide  is  at  its  highest  ;  on  one  side  of  our 
small  island  the  waves  are  beating  against  the  rocks, 
making  a  continual  "washing"  noise,  quite  unlike 
the  continuous  moaning  on  a  longer  stretch  of  coast. 
The  sea  on  the  opposite  side  is  emerald-green,  but 
not  so  bright  as  it  was  earlier  in  the  day.  Meadow- 
pipits  are  singing  their  sweet,  trembling  songs  from 
St.  Cuthbert's  Tower,  and  two  swallows  circle  round 
the  old  stone  building.  The  lark  is  singing  his  last 
evening  song;  for  the  sun,  now  and  again  seen 
through  the  clouds,  is  nearing  the  water.  The  family 
of  ringed  plovers  are  busy  in  the  small  sandy  bay 


FARNE  ISLANDS  AND  THEIR  BIRDS    209 

and  pick  up  food  left  by  each  receding  wave,  some- 
times sitting  on  the  green  and  yellow  moss-covered 
rocks.  Rock-pipits,  rising  with  darting  flight,  call 
their  plaintive  weet-tuit-weet  as  they  fly.  over  the 
patches  of  white  campion ;  and  meadow-pipits  are 


YOUNG    CORMORANTS 

also  roused,  these  uttering  a  somewhat  similar  note. 
On  the  cliffs,  where  a  few  noisy  starlings  are  going  to 
roost,  are  small  pools  of  water,  left  there  by  the  last 
storm;  for  only  in  rough  weather  does  the  sea  rise 
to  this  height. 

Many  flowers,  including  bird's-foot  trefoil,   thistle, 
o 


210       HILLSIDE,    ROCK,    AND    DALE 

dock,  and  nettles,  are  discovered  as  we  walk  round 
and  about  the  island,  but  the  sun  has  now  been 
below  the  horizon  for  some  time,  so  that  the  li^ht  is 

o 

not  the  best  for  flower-hunting.  In  the  west  the 
Megstone  Rock,  with  its  "  whitewashed "  summit, 
stands  out  with  rare  distinctness,  while  more  to  the 


SUNSET    OFF    FARNE    ISLAND 

north  and  on  the  land,  the  Cheviots  are  wrapt  in  the 
haze  of  evening. 

As  it  becomes  darker,  the  wild  cries  of  sea-birds  are 
not  so  frequently  heard  ;  and  then,  one  by  one,  they 
pass  and  go  to  their  homes  on  the  rocks.  For  a  long 
time  I  look  out  over  the  islands,  the  more  distant 
being  lost  in  the  darkness  of  night,  the  gleam  of  the 
Longstone-light  showing  the  distance  to  which  the 
islands  stretch,  while  at  regular  intervals  the  glare 


FARNE  ISLANDS  AND  THEIR  BIRDS    211 

from  the  Fame-light  is  thrown  far  out  over  the 
spray-covered  water,  and  now  and  again  a  white- 
winged  sea-bird  passes  across  the  light  and  is  lost 
again  directly,  and  in  this  way  the  short  night  passes, 
the  call  or  shrill  cry  of  a  bird  being  sometimes  heard 
above  the  beating  of  the  waves  against  the  rock- 
bound  shore.  And  long  before  the  first  beams  of 
daylight  appear,  the  solitary  lark  rises  to  open  with 
his  song  of  love,  another  day  of  busy  life  on  these 
famous  islands  of  the  wild  North  Sea. 


THE   BASS    ROCK 

XI 

The  Bass  Rock 

IT  was  evening  when  I  first  landed  on  this  cele- 
brated rock  in  the  Firth  of  Forth.  Our  small 
sailing  boat,  manned  by  two  native  veterans,  left  the 
little  bay  near  "  Tantallon's  rocky  shore "  when  the 
sun  was  nearing  the  western  horizon.  A  fresh  breeze 
was  blowing  from  the  coast,  and  as  our  little  craft 
quickly  approached  the  gigantic  rock,  its  towering 
black  sides  seemed  to  rise  higher  and  higher  towards 
the  clouds. 

When  we  reached  the  rough  landing-place  it  was 
at  once  evident  that  there  would  be  some  difficulty 

212 


THE   BASS   ROCK  213 

in  getting  ashore,  owing  to  the  heavy  swell  which 
rose  and  fell  around  the  steep  and  sombre  sides  of 
our  haven.  By  good  management  and  waiting  for 
a  favourable  opportunity,  however,  we  were  able  to 
jump  from  our  rocking  boat  and  to  cling  on  to  the 
water-washed  rock.  Then  we  climbed  up  the  uninvit- 
ing landing-place,  made  more  uncertain  as  regards 
foothold  by  the  broken  condition  of  the  rock,  owing 
to  a  lighthouse  which  was  being  constructed.  When 
above  this  we  progressed  up  a  pathway  in  places  so 
steep,  that  it  was  more  difficult  than  climbing  the 
face  of  the  rock.  The  top  was  reached  at  length, 
however,  and  we  took  a  survey  and  formed  some 
necessary  plans  for  our  visit  on  the  morrow.  We 
stayed  on  the  summit  for  about  an  hour,  and  in  that 
short  time  climbed  down  to  examine  several  of  the 
nests,  some  of  which  had  fresh  eggs  in  them,  while 
others  were  almost  ready  for  hatching.  The  boat 
had  to  return  earlier  than  we  expected,  but  our 
hurried  visit  just  gave  us  an  idea  of  the  best  part  to 
go  to  when  we  returned  with  our  cameras. 

.  The  morning  opened  bright  and  gave  prospect  of 
being  a  perfect  summer  day.  Once  again  we  landed 
on  the  rock,  and  had  a  little  difficulty  in  getting  our 
apparatus  safely  on  shore.  Everybody  has  heard  of 
this  remarkable  little  island,  while  many  have  seen  it, 
but  few,  except  bird-lovers,  scientists,  or  antiquaries 
have  landed  thereon.  A  brief  description  will  help 


214       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

readers  to  realise  what  kind  of  a  place  the  island  is, 
and  I  hope  will  also  give  them  a  desire  to  visit  a  site 
in  the  North  Sea  which  has  attractions  for  naturalists, 
as  well  as  romantic  historical  associations. 

The  Bass  Rock  stands  near  the  mouth  of  the  Firth 
of  Forth,  about  two  miles  distant  from  Canty  Bay, 


TANTALI.ON    CASTLE    AND    BAY 

which  is  the  nearest  land.  It  is  composed  mostly 
of  volcanic  greenstone,  and  it  is  about  a  mile  in 
circumference,  the  height  is  a  little  over  three  hundred 
feet.  The  only  landing-place  is  on  the  south  side, 
the  west,  east,  and  north  sides  rise  sheer  out  of  the 
sea  and  are  almost  inaccessible  except  to  expert 
climbers,  and  many  places  would  defy  even  these. 


THE   BASS   ROCK  215 

From  June  in  1691  until  April,  1694,  sixteen  men 
held  the  then  little  fort  against  all  the  forces  which 
William  III.  and  the  heroes  of  the  Revolution  sent 
against  them.  This  plucky  little  band  might  have 
held  out  for  many  years  longer  had  not  provisions 
run  short.  However,  they  surrendered  on  honourable 
terms,  the  cause  of  the  Stuarts  being  already  hopeless. 
This  was  the  last  fort  to  hold  out  for  the  Stuarts, 
and  one  can  well  realise,  when  looking  on  this  for- 
midable rock,  what  an  impregnable  place  it  would 
be  to  capture  when  held  by  a  few  resolute  and  well- 
provisioned  men. 

When  I  found  myself  on  the  summit  the  June 
sun  rays  came  down  on  the  grassy  slope  with  a  force 
which  seemed  to  be  scorching  up  the  scant  vegeta- 
tion. Near  I  saw  a  little  bird  which  I  knew  well, 
and  one  I  should  never  have  expected  to  see  here. 
This  was  a  hedge-sparrow  ;  its  song  first  attracted 
me,  and  then  it  was  seen  feeding  while  on  the  lichen- 
covered  rocks.  The  little  brown  bird  reminded  me 
of  the  fields  and  gardens  at  home  and  seemed  out 
of  place  in  such  a  situation.  Then  a  wagtail  flew 
up  and  disappeared  on  the  other  side  of  the  island, 
and  before  one  was  able  to  distinguish  its  species. 
Meadow-pipits  were  soaring  and  singing  their  trem- 
bling songs,  and  they  would  rise  from  their  nests 
as  I  walked  along.  There  were  not  many  species 
of  flowers  ;  perhaps  the  most  interesting,  and  which 


216       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 


attracted  most  attention,  were  a  few  fine  specimens 

of  tree  mallow. 
These  were  fine 
healthy  plants, 
and  some  reached 
a  good  height. 
Sea-campion  was 
in  the  greatest 
abundance;  there 
was  also  plenty 
of  red  campion, 
the  flowers  of 
the  latter  were 
remarkably  large. 
Grass  there  was 
in  moderation, 
but  it  was  thin 
and  looked  half 
starved  by  the 
side  of  the  more 
healthy  -  looking 
flowers.  The  view 
from  the  summit 
is  one  to  be  long 
remembered  ;  all 
around,  the  sea  is 
as  blue  as  the 
brilliant  Italian - 


BASS   ROCK — WEST   SIDE 


THE   BASS    ROCK  217 

like  sky.  Away  to  the  south,  Canty  Bay  can  be  just 
discerned,  and  on  the  left  of  this  stands  the  noble 
ruin  of  Tantallon  Castle ;  the  tall  walls  and  turrets 
on  the  edge  of  the  rugged  weather-beaten  rock- 
bound  coast  stand  well  out  against  the  sky.  The 
coast  thereabouts  is  one  of  the  most  dangerous  in 
these  parts,  and  has  been  the  scene  of  many  terrible 
wrecks.  Farther  to  the  west  the  land  is  lost,  or 
seems  to  fade  away  in  the  summer  haze,  and  slowly 
blends  in  with  the  sky.  A  steamer  entering  the 
Firth  of  Forth  looks  like  a  toy  ship,  and  the  great 
streak  of  smoke  it  leaves  behind  hangs  long  over 
the  still  water  and  then  gradually  drifts  away. 

We  now  leave  the  summit,  and  go  to  the  east  side. 
Here,  where  the  grassy  slope  meets  the  rock,  we 
prepare  our  cameras,  and  get  ready  for  the  descent. 
Over  the  edge  thousands  of  gannets  are  circling  far, 
far  below,  looking  no  larger  than  pigeons  from  this 
towering  height.  Away  on  the  sea,  almost  to  the 
horizon,  thousands  more  are  swimming;  then  they 
are  seen  to  our  right  and  to  our  left,  while  above  one 
of  the  great  birds  now  and  then  swoops  by  with  a 
rush,  and  skims  onward,  like  a  monster  dart,  to  the 
bird-covered  shelves  of  rock  two  hundred  feet  below. 
I  climb  down  more  to  the  north,  while  my  friend 
descends  on  the  east  side.  Sometimes  these  gannets 
are,  as  it  were,  quite  sociable,  and  will  allow  one  to 
approach  ;  at  other  times  if  we  go  within  thirty  feet 


AUTHOR   DESCENDING  THE    BASS    ROCK 


THE   BASS   ROCK  219 

they  utter  their  shrill  alarm  note,  ki-u,  and  fly  away 
in  a  great  hurry.  It  was  so  on  the  occasion  of  our 
visit.  We  tried  to  get  close  to  one,  and  then  another, 
but  altogether  failed.  Then  I  "spotted"  one  round  a 
ledge  and  commenced  to  stalk  it.  Stalking  a  bird 
on  ordinary  level  ground  taxes  one's  skill,  but  on  this 
precipitous  rock,  where  the  slightest  false  step  means 
a  drop  into  the  sea  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet  below, 
needs  all  the  nerve  and  patience  of  the  photographer. 
A  steady  head  and  sure  foot  are  needful  if  one  wishes 
to  get  the  best  results  when  photographing  on  such  a 
cliff  as  this.  However,  by  going  down  and  then  up 
again,  and  climbing  slowly  forward,  I  was  able  to 
expose  two  plates  before  the  bird  flew  away.  As 
there  were  no  other  birds  near  me,  I  returned  to  the 
top,  and  this  time  descended  to  where  my  friend  was 
at  work  some  eighty  or  more  feet  below.  Here  we 
found  a  convenient  ledge  about  three  feet  long  by 
two  wide — quite  a  respectable  standing-place  after  the 
narrow  places  we  had  just  traversed.  On  this  there 
was  just  room  for  one  camera  and  the  operator — that 
is,  if  one  held  on  to  the  former  to  prevent  it  from 
toppling  over  into  the  sea.  The  cliff  below  bent 
inwards,  so  there  was  a  clear  view  of  the  vast  array 
of  flying  birds  below,  while  we  had  a  splendid  sight 
of  the  whole  of  the  east  side  of  the  rock.  This  view 
was  one  that  will  live  in  my  memory  for  ever ;  it  is 
one  that  is  dear  to  the  heart  of  any  naturalist,  and 


220       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 

anyone  with  any  real  sympathy  for  bird  life  could 
sit  there  for  hours  together,  and  all  the  time  be  filled 
with  a  sense  of  awe  and  admiration  at  the  variety 
and  vastness  of  the  life  and  animation  of  this  gigantic 
sea-cliff.  Now  there  is  suddenly  heard  an  alarm 
among  a  group  of  birds  two  hundred  feet  or  more 


GANNETS 


away,  and  at  once  a  veritable  cloud  of  them  rise  from 
the  cliff,  the  sound  of  their  wings  as  they  first  beat 
the  air  resembling  a  great  muffled  shout — whooa ! 
Another  and  another  party  also  leave  their  ledges, 
until  the  sea  in  an  area  of  about  three  hundred  feet 
square  is  almost  hidden  for  the  time.  Round  and 
round  this  great  flock  of  excited  birds  circles,  some 


THE   BASS    ROCK  221 

going  one  way  and  others  another,  while  still  more 
are  crossing  and  recrossing  in  their  flight  to  and  from 
the  cliff.  ;The  eye. becomes  bewildered. 'by.  the  maze 
of  birds,  and  every  other  sound  is  deadened  by  their 
cries.  Quarr-quarr  some  are  calling,  while  the  rest 
join  in  with  the  more  shrill  scream  ki-u,  ki-u.  One 
flies  near  us,  flops  on  to  her  nest,  and  then,  through 
seeing  us,  is  startled.  The  result  is  almost  comical, 
for  with  a  scream  she  leaves  in  a  greater  hurry  than 
she  settled,  and  in  her  excitement  pushes  her  egg 
over  the  ledge.  The  egg  drops,  just  strikes  a  jagged 
edge,  and  falls  fifty  feet  more  on  its  journey,  and 
smashes  with  a  red  mess  near  another  bird,  which 
looks  up  inquiringly  to  see  what  is  coming  next  As 
no  more  eggs  fall,  she  turns  her  head,  and  gives  a 
significant  quarr,  which  sounds  much  like  an  ironical 
cheer. 

We  remain  still.  Slowly  the  birds  return,  and 
several  plates  are  exposed.  I  tried  with  more  or 
less  of  success  to  obtain  some  pictures  of  the  birds 
in  flight.  When  photographing  these  it  is  easy  to 
realise  their  swiftness  of  flight.  The  slightest  hesi- 
tation in  releasing  the  shutter  means  that  the  bird 
is  far  out  of  the  range  of  the  lens.  Some  which 
I  took  were  found  on  development  to  be  just  on 
the  extreme  edge  of  the  plate ;  but  when  I  exposed 
these  I  thought  they  were  on  the  other  side.  Those 
birds  in  the  distance  seem  to  be  flying  slowly,  but 


222       HILLSIDE,    ROCK,   AND    DALE 

their  size  is  deceiving,  and  especially  is  this  so  when 
they  are  near  to  the  observer. 

If  we  watch  for  some  minutes  we  see  many  inci- 
dents which  might  escape  the  eye  of  a  mere  casual 


GANNET   SITTING 


THE   BASS    ROCK 


223 


observer.     Not  far  away  below  two  birds  are  fighting. 
Their  way  of  inflicting  punishment  on  an  enemy  is 
extremely   curi- 
ous.      One  will  JF'  ^;-^  J 

jfl^R  i  •'"•"  ••w-'v  jj^H 

seize     hold      of  -^^ 

the  other's  beak, 
and  the  stronger 
twists  and  turns 
the  neck  of  the 
weaker  bird. 
Meanwhile  their 
great  wings  are 
raised  and  moved 
slowly  as  they 
balance  them- 
selves, and  then 
at  length,  by  one 
supreme  effort, 
the  aggressor  is 
twisted  over  the 
edge  of  the  cliff, 
and  with  re- 
peated cries  of 
anger  flies  round, 
soon  to  become 

lost   in    the   vast    feathered    crowd    circling    dream- 
Some   little   way   to   the   north 


GANNETS    EGG 


ingly 
there 


all 
is 


around. 


now    seen     a     great    commotion.       Two 


224       HILLSIDE,    ROCK,    AND   DALE 

strong  birds  are  having  a  tussle ;  one  has  the  advan- 
tage now,  but  the.  next  minute  the  other  regains 
her  lost  ground.  It  seems  as  though  the  hen 
attacked  has  committed  an  illegal  offence  by  sitting 
in  another's  nest,  and  the  rightful  occupier  is  en- 
deavouring to  drive  or  pull  her  off.  It  is  an  exciting 
combat ;  the  one  on  the  nest  holds  on,  although  the 
other  pulls  and  tugs  at  her  beak.  Who  will  win  is 
the  question.  The  birds  around  seem  to  be  taking 
an  interest  in  the  battle  ;  for  they  not  only  look  on, 
but  open  their  beaks  to  their  very  widest  extent  and 
send  forth  loud  cries  often  repeated.  Another  gannet 
then  flies  towards  them,  misses  his  foothold,  and 
circles  round  to  regain  the  balance  he  has  lost.  Then 
he  settles,  and  also  gives  out  a  loud,  angry  call ;  and 
then  without  more  ado  he  marches  up  to  the  com- 
batants and  actually  takes  a  firm  grasp  with  his 
beak  of  the  tail  of  the  bird  which  is  standing  over 
the  nest.  The  latter  is  now  between  two  fires,  and 
evidently  hardly  knows  what  to  do.  What  can  she 
do  ?  Both  back  and  front,  or  as  a  sailor  would 
put  it,  stern  and  bows,  are  held  fast  by  two  deter- 
mined foes.  These  are  probably  the  feathered  couple 
to  which  that  particular  nest  containing  its  one  egg 
belongs,  which  the  stranger  so  gallantly  tries  to 
protect.  Now  she  tries  to  escape,  but  finds  this 
to  be  impossible.  The  real  fun  now  commences. 
One  bird  pulls  one  way  and  one  the  other,  so  that 


GANNETS 


226       HILLSIDE,    ROCK,   AND    DALE 

the  poor  creature  squeals  and  squars ;  but  this  does 
not  help  her,  and  after  a  little  more  stretching  she 
is  pitched  ignominiously  over  the  cliff,  and  flies 
away,  as  one  can  only  hope,  a  wiser  and  apparently 
a  longer  bird.  Next  time  she  sits  on  a  nest  I  will 
be  bound  she  takes  care  it  is  the  right  one. 

It  seems  to  me  quite  impossible  to  judge  of  the 
number  of  birds  on  this  rock.'  Some  say  there  are 
fifty  thousand  pairs,  but  I  should  think  this  to  be 
too  low  an  estimate  ;  for  in  addition  to  the  great 
flocks  flying  around,  and  the  vast  crowd  sitting  on 
the  east  side  alone,  there  are  enormous  numbers 
swimming  on  the  sea.  These  stretch  away  on  all 
sides ;  in  places  the  surface  is  white  with  them,  and 
far  away  in  the  distance  other  groups  to  the  unaided 
eye  look  like  sparkles  on  the  water  as  the  sunbeams 
fall  on  them.  Large  steamers  resembling  small  boats 
cut  a  pathway  through  the  groups,  when  some  birds 
dive  and  others  fly  from  the  water,  and  look  no  larger 
than  swallows  from  our  high  coign  of  vantage.  If 
we  go  to  the  top  of  the  rock  and  look  north,  east,  or 
west,  we  still  see  these  white  dots  stretching  far  away 
seawards.  After  we  have  exposed  all  of  our  plates 
we  find  a  suitable  ledge,  and  sit  and  watch  this  busy 
scene,  and  endeavour  to  get  it  permanently  photo- 
graphed on  our  mind. 

Immediately  below,  numbers  of  puffins  are  flying 
and  swimming;  some  are  darting  rapidly  from  sea 


THE   BASS   ROCK  227 

to  rock,  and  others  leave  the  ledges  and  dash  in 
straight  lines  to  their  distant  feeding-grounds.  The 
shrill  cry  of  the  kittiwake  reaches  us  from  far  down 
the  bird-covered  sides,  and  the  snowy-plumaged  birds 
can  be  distinguished  among  the  larger  gannets. 
Guillemots  also  are  here  in  plenty,  and  they  are 


GANNETS:  A  TALKATIVE  QUARTETTE 

seen  sitting  in  rows  on  some  of  the  rocky  shelves  ; 
others  are  on  the  water  resembling  dark  dots,  and 
when  these  dive  for  fish  they  disappear  one  after  the 
other,  like  bubbles  extinguished  by  the  sun's  heat. 
A  gannet  flies  up  with  a  fish,  places  it  by  the  side  of 
his  nest,  goes  away  in  search  of  more,  and  hundreds 
of  others  are  doing  the  same.  The  beauty  of  the 


228       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 

summer  sun  lighting  up  this  wild  fairy  scene,  the 
calls  from  a  thousand  birds,  deep,  deep  down ;  a 
pipit  piping  on  the  cliff,  a  tiny  noise  in  the  chorus  ; 
a  peregrine  sailing  landwards,  and  the  glory  of  the 
sparkling  sea,  and  over  all  the  screaming  crescent- 
winged  swifts  now  round  the  rock,  and  presently 


TANTALLON    CASTLE  :    HAUNT   OF   THE   SWIFT 

darting  towards  their  nests  on  Tantallon's  crumbling 
walls,  make  a  fascinating  scene  one  is  loath  to  leave. 
But  all  too  quickly  the  summer  day  passes,  and  a 
call  from  the  heights  above  reminds  us  that  our  time 
has  expired ;  and  thus  ascending  to  the  top  of  the 
rock  we  see  the  white  sail  of  our  little  boat  gleaming 
in  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun ;  it  is  just  leaving  the 


THE   BASS   ROCK  229 

rocky  shore  of  Canty  Bay.  We  pack  our  cameras 
and  prepare  to  descend,  but  our  host  Macbeth  insists 
upon  our  partaking  of  such  fare  as  he  can  offer, 
explaining  that  one  has  to  be  satisfied  with  what  he 
can  get  on  a  rocky  home  like  this.  For  one  short 
hour  we  sit  on  the  ramparts  of  an  ancient  fortifica- 
tion and  look  out  upon  the  sea,  now  covered  here 
and  there  with  small  patches  of  silver  spray,  mean- 
while watching  our  boat  approaching,  and  knowing 
that  each  wave  it  encounters  means  so  much  time 
less  for  us  on  this  rock,  we  fain  would  stay  on.  Then 
we  are  hailed  again,  and  find  that  it  is  time  to  leave. 
We  drink  to  the  health  of  jolly  Macbeth  and  his 
merry  daughter  and  wish  them  success,  and  then 
go  down  to  our  boat.  And  as  we  sail  towards 
Tantallon's  stately  ruins,  and  watch  the  Bass  Rock 
seeming  to  grow  smaller  and  smaller,  it  seems  as 
though  we  had  passed  an  uncommon  experience  in 
a  land  of  dreams,  and  we  look  back  upon  our  visit 
as  one  of  the  most  remarkable  and  interesting  days 
spent  among  the  birds  of  the  British  Islands. 


THE    BERWICKSHIRE    SHORE 


XII 


In  Search  of  the  Rock  Dove 

A7TER  our  short  visit  to  the  Bass  Rock  we  had 
a  few  days  to  spare  before  our  return  home, 
and  having  heard  of  a  cave  in  which  rock  doves 
bred,  some  little  distance  down  the  coast,  we  decided 
to  make  our  way  thither.  From  North  Berwick  we 
took  train  to  a  small  fishing  village  on  the  Berwick- 
shire shore ;  there  we  stayed  for  a  day  or  two.  It 
was  a  sleepy  little  place,  quite  unaccustomed  to 
seeing  strangers  from  the  outside  world,  so  that  we, 
with  our  cameras,  were  a  source  of  great  attraction 
to  the  natives. 

230 


IN  SEARCH  OF  THE  ROCK  DOVE    231 

On  the  evening  of  the  day  on  which  we  arrived 
the  village  fairly  woke  up.  The  next  morning  there 
was  to  be  a  wedding,  and  all  the  men  folk  flocked  to 
the  only  inn  the  place  boasted  of  to  drink  the  bride- 
groom's health.  For  some  hours,  almost  on  to  mid- 


THE    ROCK    DOVE'S    HAUNT 

night,  we  had  to  listen  to  songs,  bawled  out  with 
such  power  as  only  fishermen  can  put  forth,  the 
accompanist  having  a  rusty  concertina  on  which  he 
played  the  airs,  if  he  knew  them,  and  if  not,  any- 
thing seemed  to  pass  for  "  music  "  on  this  auspicious 
occasfon.  There  was,  however,  one  song  which  stood 
out  from  among  the  rest.  It  was  one  I  have  heard 


232       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

sung  in  many  places,  but  never  have  I  heard  it  sung 
so  well  as  that  fisherman  sang  it.  The  musician 
who  played  the  concertina  had,  I  think,  gone  to  get 
further  refreshment,  for  he  luckily  did  not  accompany 
this  song.  With  a  fine  tenor  voice  the  fisherman 
struck  up — 

"  I  have  heard  the  Mavis  singing 
His  love-song  to  the  morn,"  etc. 

He  received  a  well-deserved  but  rough  encore, 
and  sang  the  same  song  again,  and  one  was  struck 
with  the  fineness  of  his  voice.  At  length  the  concert 
ended — broken  up  by  the  local  policeman,  much  to 
the  disgust  of  those  present.  The  "gentleman  in 
blue "  was  a  new  hand,  and  did  not  know  the  ways 
of  the  natives,  and,  to  judge  by  the  expressions 
which  were  hurled  at  him,  I  felt  that  he  was  in  an 
uncomfortable  situation  while  doing  his  duty. 

We  started  along  the  rough,  jagged  coast  to  search 
for  the  rock  doves'  haunt,  and  after  slow  and  difficult 
progress,  over  rocks  which  were  as  treacherous  as 
any  I  have  met  with,  we  felt  that  the  caves  could 
not  be  much  further  on.  A  short  distance  ahead 
there  were  some  winkle  gatherers  searching  among 
the  pools,  and  on  inquiring  how  far  a  certain  cave 
was,  we  were  told  that  it  was  "  twa  miles  and  a 
bittock."  Well,  we  went  the  "twa,"  but  the 
"  bittock  "  beat  us.  I  do  not  know  what  a  "  bittock  " 


234       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,    AND    DALE 

is  in  the  Scottish  language,  but  on  this  occasion  it 
could  not  have  been  far  off  five  miles.  We  did, 
however,  see  several  rock  doves,  so  felt  sure  they 
were  breeding  near  at  hand.  Many  other  shore 
birds  were  seen  or  heard  as  we  passed  along  the 
beach.  As  evening  was  coming  on  we  decided  to 
return  along  the  top  of  the  cliffs,  hoping  a  road  or 
pathway  might  be  found  there.  We  climbed  up 
the  rocks,  and  then  came  to  a  steep,  grassy  slope 
leading  to  the  summit.  This  was  dotted  over  with 
wild  thyme,  which  scented  the  evening  air.  At  the 
top  was  some  waste  land,  covered  with  many  gorse 
bushes.  Flying  over  these  were  twittering  linnets, 
their  merry  notes  reminding  us  of  the  words,  of 
Robert  Burns — 

"  I  vvadna  gie  the  1  ntie's  sang" 
Sae  merry  on  the  broomy  lea, 
For  a'  the  notes  that  ever  rang 
From  a'  the  harps  of  minstrelsie. 
Mair  dear  to  me,  where  buss  or  breer 
Amang  the  pathless  heather  grows, 
The  lintie's  wild,  sweet  note  to  hear, 
As  on  the  ev'nin'  breeze  it  flows." 

The  next  day  we  hired  a  boat  to  take  us  to  the 
caves,  and  with  us  went  our  genial  host  from  the 
little  roadside  inn.  It  seems  to  be  a  favourite  form 
of  amusement  for  sportsmen  to  visit  these  caves ; 
while  one  goes  inside  and  drives  the  rock  doves 


IN  SEARCH  OF  THE  ROCK  DOVE    235 

out,  others  station  themselves  on  the  rocks  without, 
and  shoot  the  doves  as  they  leave.  Good-sized  bags 
are  sometimes  made  in  a  day,  but  nearly  every  bird 
is  either  shot  or  scared  away  from  the  haunt.  We 
feared  that  some  of  these  fellows  had  been  to  the 
caves  before  our  visit. 

The  caves  were  reached  after  a  pleasant  sail 
lasting  about  two  hours,  and  we  then  realised  the 
length  of  a  Scotsman's  "  bittock."  Although  the 
sea  was  smooth,  there  was  a  remarkably  heavy 
swell  on,  and  even  the  fishermen  thought  landing 
would  be  impossible ;  but  the  boat  was  taken  into 
a  convenient  little  creek  in  the  shelter  of  some  taller 
rocks,  and  we  jumped  ashore.  A  short  climb  over 
sharp-pointed  rocks  brought  us  to  the  entrance  of 
the  cave,  but  no  doves  were  seen.  However,  we 
entered  and  searched  round,  and  found  plenty  of 
evidence  that  they  had  recently  nested  there ;  but 
the  birds  and  their  eggs  were  all  gone,  so  that  we 
had  to  content  ourselves  with  taking  photographs 
of  the  site.  The  roof  of  the  cave  was  composed 
of  red  sandstone,  and  on  this,  numbers  of  house - 
martins  had  built.  The  whole  rockside  was  dotted 
with  their  nests,  all  being  made  of  red  sand,  and 
were  thus  difficult  to  distinguish  from  the  cliff  itself. 
These  nests  were  interesting,  as  showing  the  house- 
martins'  natural  nesting  site. 

We  were  disappointed   in   not  finding  any  doves 


236       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 


ROCK   DOVrS   CAVE 


nests,  but  the  beauty  of  the  bold  headlands,  rugged 
and  sea-worn,  the  grandeur  of  the  rough  coast,  and 
the  wildness  of  the  rock  doves'  home,  well  repaid 
us  for  our  trouble.  When  sailing  homewards  the 


IN  SEARCH  OF  THE  ROCK  DOVE     237 

Bass  Rock — far  away  resembling  a  small  puff  of 
smoke  on  the  ocean  —  could  be  seen,  and  many 
other  sights  and  sounds,  all  suggestive  of  bird  life, 
were  passed  by.  The  village  was  reached  in  the 
evening,  and  later  on  the  same  night  we  left  Auld 
Scotia  to  journey  south.  But  never  shall  we  forget 
the  kind  hospitality  of  the  friendly  northerners,  nor 
the  charming  birdland  sights,  and  the  beauty  of  the 
country,  with  its  wild  shores,  all  of  which  had  lent 
enchantment  to  life  day  by  day  during  our  too  brief 
visit. 


XIII 
The  Protection  of  Birds 

THE  destruction  of  rare  birds  which  we  hear 
of  from  time  to  time,  especially  in  the  London 
suburbs,  prompts  one  to  ask,  What  can  be  done  for 
the  better  protection  of  districts  still  picturesquely 
attractive?  It  is  in  the  environs  of  London  that 
birds  most  need  protection.  In  out-of-the-way 
country  parishes  the  more  common  kinds  are  not 
in  danger ;  in  point  of  fact  there  are  thousands  of 
square  miles  of  country  where  birds  breed  unmolested 
year  after  year.  In  our  London  suburbs,  however, 
and  more  especially  on  the  north  side  of  the 
metropolis,  something  more  definite  must  be  done 
in  the  way  of  protection  than  is  being  carried  out 
at  present,  unless  several  rarer  kinds  of  birds  are 
to  be  annihilated.  Mere  notice-boards  setting  forth 
the  provisions  of  the  Wild  Birds'  Protection  Act, 
placed  in  railway  stations,  in  fields,  or  on  fences 
adjoining  the  highways,  seem  very  ineffective.  I  have 
seen  bird-catchers  at  work  almost  underneath  some 
of  these  notice-boards.  The  rn^q  a.re  well  aware 


THE    PROTECTION    OF   BIRDS        239 

that  very  little  notice  will  be  taken  of  them  by  any 
local  authorities.  I  once  came  upon  two  men  with 
their  nets  set  close  to  a  pathway  along  which  two 
policemen  passed  daily,  and  within  a  short  distance 
of  two  prominent  notice-boards  containing  lists  of 


PARTRIDGE   SITTING 

such  birds  as  were  protected  in  the  districts  ;  never- 
theless, the  bird-catchers,  on  this  occasion,  caught 
two  kingfishers  and  numbers  of  other  birds  of  various 
kinds.  .  Near  to  London,  kingfishers  are  very  far 
from  being  common  ;  but  still,  I  know  of  a  stream 
where  Londoners  may  still  enjoy  the  sight  of  these 
brilliant  and  interesting  birds  on  any  day  throughout 


24o       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

the  summer  and  autumn  months.  When  the  leaves 
have  fallen,  and  the  brook  in  question  runs  through 
a  clearer  course,  bird-catchers  come  more  often,  place 
their  nets  across  the  water  from  bank  to  bank,  and 
then,  by  taking  a  long,  circuitous  course,  and  return- 


PARTRIDGE  S   NEST 


ing  along  the  stream-side,  meanwhile  beating  the 
bushes  on  the  way,  several  may  be  caught  within 
an  hour.  Kingfishers  fly  swiftly  up  or  down  stream 
close  to  the  water,  and  through  not  seeing  the  fine 
net  dash  into  it,  and  so  become  thoroughly  entangled 
in  the  meshes.  For  ten  years  or  more  successively, 
a  pair  of  kingfishers  have  taken  up  their  quarters 


THE   PROTECTION    OF   BIRDS        241 

on  this  brook  during  summer ;  but  as  regularly  as 
the  birds  arrive  they  have  been  caught,  immediately 
killed,  and  sold  to  the  first  customer  who  would  take 
them  at  the  price — one  shilling  and  sixpence  each  ! 
There  is  always  a  ready  sale  for  birds  of  such  fine 
plumage  among  publicans.  In  many  public-houses 
of  North  London,  cases  of  kingfishers  can  be  seen, 
and  the  greater  part  have  been  caught  on  the 
suburban  stream  to  which  I  have  referred.  All 
persons  who  buy  birds  which  they  know  to  have 
been  caught  in  a  protected  district  ought  to  be 
held  responsible  and  heavily  fined.  They  should 
certainly  suffer  punishment  similar  to  that  to  which 
the  bird-catcher  would  be  liable  if  he  was  caught 
in  the  act.  Such  persistent  extermination  of  a  rare 
species  is  a  disgrace  to  the  county  of  Middlesex, 
while,  at  the  same  time,  the  countryside  is  being 
robbed  of  one  of  its  principal  charms.  If  a  few 
of  these  men  were  taken,  as  could  easily  be  done, 
and  were  made  a  severe  example  of,  it  would  check, 
if  it  did  not  actually  stop,  bird-catching  in  the  entire 
district.  The  news  that  a  bird-catcher  has  been  fined 
or  imprisoned  spreads  amongst  the  fraternity  very 
rapidly,  the  effect  being  correspondingly  wholesome. 
I  know  from  experience  that  that  would  be  the  surest 
and  quickest  way  to  protect  our  feathered  songsters  ; 
but  when  these  men  are  allowed  to  "  work "  fields 
and  streams  day  after  day,  as  they  are  doing  in  parts 
Q 


242       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 


of  the  metropolitan  area,  without  check,  we  may 
soon  altogether  miss  many  birds  which  are  a  chief 
attraction  of  our  lanes  and  woo'ds. 

During  the 
nesting  season, 
when  all  birds 
should  be  pro- 
tected, it  is  not 
an  uncommon 
thing  to  see 
small  gangs  of 
men  catching 
them  by  means 
of  trap-cages. 
Dozens  of  sing- 
ing birds,  even 
including  night- 
ingales,are  taken 
back  to  London 

?  *::  ':e 

tA  ^  when  these  men 

T^jtggL^g         return  from  their 
ft"     ^^  "il^^^^S         day  in  the  fields. 

SWANS   AND    CYGNETS  The     OttCC      COn- 

ventional  bird- 
catcher,  with  his  large  clap-net,  who  a  few  years 
ago  was  so  often  seen  in  the  London  suburbs,  is  now 
no  more.  The  last  man  who  set  his  clap-net  in  .these 
parts  was  watched  by  the  police  and  caught,  and 


WRYNECK'S  NEST 


244       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 

none  have  shown  themselves  since.  Now  the  men 
adopt  quieter  methods,  and  it  is  because  neither  traps 
nor  nets  are  seen,  that  the  police  seem  to  think  that 
bird-catching  is  a  thing  of  the  past.  The  large 
numbers  of  linnets,  redpolls,  and  many  other  species 
which  used  to  be  caught  in  clap-nets,  are  now  not 
captured  to  the  extent  they  were  formerly,  and  in 
consequence  the  difference  in  the  numbers  of  wild 
birds  is  very  apparent  to  those  who  ramble  in  the 
open  air;  but,  nevertheless,  such  numbers  are  still 
caught,  that  something  ought  to  be  done  in  their 
favour. 

In  Epping  Forest,  which,  I  am  glad  to  say,  is  fast 
becoming  a  birds'  paradise,  the  rarer  kinds  are  in- 
creasing since  bird-catchers  were  forbidden  to  follow 
their  murderous  pastime  on  that  favoured  ground. 
The  hawfinch,  a  rare  bird  at  all  times  near  London, 
is  increasing,  yet  I  know  of  a  fact  which  ought  to 
make  even  the  Forest  authorities  more  vigilant. 
Last  year  over  a  dozen — I  believe  twenty — nests 
of  the  hawfinch  were  robbed  in  Epping  Forest.  I 
also  know  that  numbers  of  people  visit  the  Forest 
on  Saturday  afternoons  solely  for  the  purpose  of 
taking  eggs,  principally  those  of  the  following  birds : 
Nightjar,  nightingale,  pheasant,  redstart,  wood  wren, 
woodpeckers,  and  sparrow-hawk.  Two  species  of 
woodpeckers  are  fairly  common  in  Epping  Forest, 
and  it  has  been  possible  for  collectors  to  cut  open 


THE   PROTECTION    OF   BIRDS        245 

the  trees  and  get  all  the  eggs  without  being  noticed 
by  the  Forest  Rangers.  Are  not  these  bird  griev- 
ances which  might  be  prevented  by  more  stringent 
protective  methods? 

Notwithstanding  any  shortcomings,  the  London 
County  Council  have  done  much  to  protect  birds  in 
their  districts  ;  but  certain  ludicrous  passages  in  their 
bill  show  that  the  protection  of  birds  should  be 
governed  by  a  body  of  practical  ornithologists. 
Thus  I  remember  to  have  read,  that  the  nightingale 
and  many  other  choice  birds,  which  love  seclusion, 
are  not  allowed  to  be  caught  on  Sundays  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Saffron  Hill,  Hatton  Garden,  Ely 
Rents,  and  Ely  Place!  All  birds  are  specially  pro- 
tected in  London  on  Sundays,  but  what  birds,  except 
the  ubiquitous  sparrow,  would  one  expect  to  find  in 
St.  Giles,  Shoreditch,  Southwark,  or  Hatton  Garden  ? 
At  the  same  time,  parks  and  other  open  spaces,  which 
come  under  the  jurisdiction  of  the  London  County 
Council,  afford  shelter  to  numbers  of  different  species 
of  rare  birds  ;  and  it  is  these  that  the  Act  is  intended 
to  protect.  Indeed,  birds  are  actually  finding  out  all 
this  for  themselves  in  their  own  quiet  and  charac- 
teristic way,  for  in  certain  retreats  of  our  London 
parks  during  spring  and  summer,  one  might  almost 
fancy  the  spot  to  be  a  retired  sylvan  nook,  alive  with 
song  and  busy  feathered  workers,  "far  from  the 
madding  crowd." 


246       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 


LAPWINGS    NEST 


It  seems  easy  to 
get  the  County  Coun- 
cils to  issue  bills  for 
the  protection  of 
birds,  but  it  is  the 
greatest  difficulty  to 
get  them  to  enforce 
their  reasonable  com- 
mands in  a  way  which 
would  be  of  service. 
In  several  places  bird- 
catching  goes  on  un- 
checked, very  much 
the  same  as  if  there 
was  no  Wild  Birds' 
Protection  Act  in 
existence.  If  bird- 
lovers  would  en- 
deavour to  get  the 
offenders  prosecuted 
they  would  be  doing 
much  towards  efficient 
protection.  In  a  dis- 
trict in  Yorkshire 
several  naturalists 
endeavoured  to  get 
their  County  Council 
to  protect  certain  rare 


THE   PROTECTION    OF   BIRDS        247 

birds  without  success.  These  gentlemen  then  took 
it  upon  themselves  to  protect  the  district,  and  sub- 
scribed money  to  pay  for  watchers  in  certain  locali- 


PHEASANT   SITTING 


ties.  So  successful  was  this  effort,  that  after  two 
seasons  the  County  Council  themselves  undertook 
to  provide  the  necessary  watchers,  the  result  being 
that  birds,  which  a  few  years  before  were  rare,  now 
show  an  increase.  This  proves  that  it  only  requires 


248       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND   DALE 

a  little  energy  on  the  part  of  naturalists  to  make  a 
County  Council  enforce  the  protection  which  the  law 
prescribes,  but  which  is  not  put -in  practice.  It  is  not 
in  keeping  with  the  prestige  of  a  great  country  that 
a  society  privately  organised  should  be  found  putting 
in  force  the  law  which  a  public  body  is  empowered  to 
have  carried  out. 

During  the  winter  of  1900  and  1901  one  bird- 
catcher  in  North  London  caught  seventeen  king- 
fishers ;  all  these  were  captured  in  the  district  covered 
by  the  Metropolitan  Police,  and  not  more  than 
eleven  miles  from  the  City.  When  it  is  possible 
for  one  man  to  kill  such  a  number  of  rare  and 
beautiful  birds,  surely  it  is  time  that  something  was 
done  to  prevent  this  wholesale  destruction.  If  only 
it  could  be  made  illegal  to  retain  captured  birds 
and  eggs  of  rare  birds,  which  are  protected,  it  would 
be  the  greatest  thing  ever  done  on  behalf  of  the  rarer 
species  of  these  Islands.  As  the  law  stands  at  present, 
no  one  has  anything  to  lose  by  shooting  rare  birds  or 
taking  their  eggs.  If  prosecuted,  the  offenders  are 
usually  fined  a  small  som,  about  a  tenth  of  the  value 
of  the  specimens.  If  a  burglar  is  captured  with  his 
spoil  he  is  not  allowed  to  keep  it,  yet  a  person 
can  take  eggs  worth  five  pounds  a  clutch ;  if  found 
out  he  is  fined  about  twenty  shillings,  and  he  is 
allowed  to  keep  the  eggs !  It  pays  such  collectors' 
agents  to  rob  our  rarest  nests,  for  they  have  no 


THE    PROTECTION    OF   BIRDS        249 

risks  to  run.*  I  am  eagerly  looking  forward  to  the 
time  when  the  Wild  Birds'  Protection  Act  will  be 
revised;  at  present  it  is  almost  useless,  yet  if  left 
in  the  hands  of  a  few  competent  ornithologists  it 
could  be  made  workable,  and  there  would  then  be 
some  hope  for  our  rarer  British  birds. 

*  Since  writing  the  above  I  am  glad  to  find  that  the  Royal  Assent 
has  been  given  to  a  short  Act  of  Parliament  which  provides  that, 
"  Where  any  person  is  convicted  of  an  offence  against  the  Wild  Birds' 
Protection  Acts,  1880  to  1896,  the  Court  may,  in  addition  to  any 
penalty  that  may  therein  be  imposed,  order  any  wild  bird,  or  wild 
bird's  egg,  in  respect  of  which  the  offence  has  been  committed,  to  be 
forfeited  and  disposed  of  as  the  Court  shall  think  fit." 


XLV 
Photographing   Birds   by   Electricity 

ELECTRICITY  and  photography  have  been 
used  together  successfully  for  many  purposes. 
In  one  branch  of  photography,  that  of  bird  life, 
it  is  most  useful.  The  patience  of  a  Nature  photo- 
grapher is  sorely  tried  at  times ;  but  now,  with 
the  electric  release  for  instantaneous  and  time 
shutters,  which  I  introduced  over  a  year  ago,  there 
is  no  need  for  the  operator  to  remain  on  the  ground 
with  his  apparatus.  Without  such  aid  of  electricity 
it  would  be  almost  impossible  to  photograph  many 
kinds  of  birds,  some  being  so  uncertain  and  quick 
in  their  movements,  that  they  are  gone  before  it 
is  possible  to  expose  a  plate  while  following  the 
old  method  of  using  a  length  of  pneumatic  tubing 
or  string.  Before  I  obtained  my  pictures  of  the  little 
grebe  which  appear  in  this  volume,  I  tried  to  take 
them  with  a  pneumatic  attachment  to  the  shutter  ; 
but  the  birds  were  so  rapid  in  their  actions  that 
I  found  them  not  to  show  on  the  plates  when  I 
developed  them  —  they  had  dived  out  of  sight  while 

250 


PHOTOGRAPHING  BY  ELECTRICITY    251 

the   air   wave    was    travelling    along   the    length    of 
tubing.      The   pictures    obtained    show   the   success 


LAPWING 


of  the  electric  shutter,  which  was  exposed  the  instant 
that  I  wished,  although  I  was  many  yards  away. 

The  photograph  of  the  lapwing  in  this  chapter  was 
taken  by  means  of  electricity,  as  were  many  others 


252       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,  AND   DALE 

in  the  pages  of  this  book.  I  had  great  difficulty  in 
photographing  the  lapwing;  three  days  were  occupied 
in  securing  a  series  of  eight  pictures.  My  camera 
was  well  concealed  underneath  a  heap  of  rubbish, 
which  was  previously  placed  near  the  nest.  I  was  in 
hiding  behind  a  hedge  over  a  hundred  yards  away, 
and  watched  the  bird  with  my  field-glasses.  The 
wire  connection  being  not  quite  long  enough,  I  had  a 
length  of  string  attached,  with  which  to  connect  the 
wires.  If  it  had  not  been  for  this,  I  should  have 
progressed  well ;  but  somehow,  some  cattle,  which 
were  grazing  near,  insisted  upon  entangling  their 
feet  in  this,  and  thus  exposing  the  plate.  Bird 
photographers  get  used  to  little  trivialities  like  this. 
Many  plates  were  wasted,  and  a  climax  was  reached 
on  the  third  day.  First  a  calf  came  along  and  got 
its  feet  caught  in  the  string,  and  so  exposed  the 
plate.  After  another  hour  or  so,  several  cows  walked 
towards  the  camera  and  looked  well  at  it ;  then  one, 
seemingly  more  inquisitive,  looked  into  the  hole 
which  was  left  for  the  lens  to  point  through,  put  her 
tongue  into  this  and  licked  the  glass.  When  these 
were  driven  away  a  horse  became  entangled  in  the 
string  and  spoilt  another  plate.  About  noon  six 
horses  trotted  gaily  up  to  the  camera  and  seemed  to- 
hold  a  short  consultation,  and  then  commenced 
business.  One  began  eating  the  electrical  apparatus, 
others  chewed  the  covering  of  the  camera,  and  one, 


PHOTOGRAPHING  BY  ELECTRICITY    253 

which  I  had  not  noticed,  swallowed  a  length  of  string, 
and  then,  finding  some  discomfort,  bolted,  pulling 
everything  over  into  confusion.  I  thus  had  a  rather 
serious  affair  at  one  end  of  my  connection,  and  what 
might  be  likened  to  a  very  large  fish  at  the  other. 
Bird  photographers  after  all  are  only  human,  and  I 
could  not  endure  all  this,  so  I  packed  up  and  left  the 
horses  and  birds  to  themselves. 

When  I  first  introduced  this  electric  release,  many 
of  our  best-known  bird  photographers  rather  scoffed 
at  the  idea,  yet  now  I  notice  that  most,  if  not  all, 
are  using  it  successfully,  either  for  night  or  day 
photography.  In  my  book  Woodland,  Field,  and 
Shore,  I  mentioned  that  a  firm  at  Enfield  were 
the  makers.  I  did  try  to  get  one  made  there, 
but  it  did  not  at  all  meet  with  my  requirements. 
Now,  however,  Messrs.  Graham  Brothers,  of  the  same 
town,  have  made  to  my  order  a  perfect  release,  which 
is  quite  separate  from  the  shutter,  and  need  not  be 
fastened  on  to  the  camera.  It  works  with  a  dry 
battery,  and  is  altogether  a  great  advance  and  im- 
provement on  that  first  introduced.  Messrs.  Graham 
Brothers  are  now  making  these,  also  another  some- 
what similar,  which  is  fastened  on  to  the  shutter. 
For  the  benefit  of  photographers  who  are  wanting  a 
thoroughly  reliable  electric  release  I  cannot  do  better 
than  recommend  this.  The  cost,  with  twenty-five 
yards  of  wire,  is  25^.  For  those  who  have  not  much 


254       HILLSIDE,    ROCK,   AND    DALE 


time  at  their  disposal  an  electric  release  is  a  necessity 
if  they  wish  to  procure  pictures  of  birds.  On  many 
occasions  I  have  left  my  camera  out  all  day,  and 

when  visited  in 
the  evening  have 
seldom  found  that 
the  plate  has  not 
been  exposed. 
There  are  many 
ways  of  connecting 
the  wires  with  the 
nest  or  food  which 
has  been  placed  to 
attract  the  birds,  so 
that  the  feathered 
visitors  uncon- 
sciously take  their 
own  photograph. 
Perhaps  the  best 
way  is  not  to  have 
the  wires  near  the 
birds,  but  to  place 
a  piece  of  very  fine 

silk  across  the  nest,  if  it  is  wished  to  photograph 
a  sitting  bird.  This  must  be  stretched  across  the 
nest  and  fastened  tc  a  firm  support  beyond.  The 
other  end  is  tied  on  to  a  small  switch,  which  works 
so  easily  that  a  slight  touch  will  connect  the  wires. 


MOOR-HEN    SITTING 


PHOTOGRAPHING  BY  ELECTRICITY    255 

Of  course  a  silent  shutter  must  be  used,  and  the 
electric  apparatus  must  make  no  noise,  otherwise  the 
bird  will  jump,  and  it  needs  an  exceedingly  rapid 
exposure  to  obtain  a  successful  picture  of  a  startled 
bird.  One  advantage  of  the  release  I  use  is,  that  it 
can  all  be  concealed  in  a  small  box  and  buried  under 
the  ground  if  necessary,  or  even  be  hidden  elsewhere; 
but  if  in  the  open  it  does  not  make  enough  noise  to 
startle  a  bird.  For  taking  photographs  at  night  it  is 
better  to  use  a  small  accumulator,  for  then  the  current 
of  electricity  is  strong  enough  to  open  the  shutter 
and  also  fire  the  charge  of  magnesium  powder.  With 
my  release  the  instant  a  bird  or  other  animal  touches 
the  food,  placed  as  a  bait,  the  shutter  opens  and 
remains  so  for  three  seconds.  A  fraction  of  a  second 
after  the  shutter  is  open  the  charge  of  powder  is 
fired,  and  there  is  no  fear  of  the  plate  being  "  fogged" 
by  other  light,  for  the  lens  is  quickly  covered  again 
after  the  exposure.  By  using  silk  in  the  way  men- 
tioned, there  is  nothing  to  scare  even  the  most  timid 
animal.  This  is  far  better  than  having  a  small  board 
or  other  visible  thing,  which  must  have  the  effect  of 
scaring  the  wary  prowlers  of  the  night  from  their 
track. 

There  is  something  exceedingly  interesting  in  thus 
getting  our  wild  animals  to  photograph  themselves, 
while  the  time  saved  by  the  Nature  photographer 
is  worth  consideration.  It  is  well  to  use  a  rapid 


256       HILLSIDE,    ROCK,   AND   DALE 


lens  for  such  work.  Mine  is  the  Goerz  Double 
Anastigmat  working  at  F  4,  undoubtedly  the  best 
lens  for  Nature  and  other  photography,  owing  to  its 
extreme  rapidity  and  covering  power.  For  photo- 

graphing birds  in  the 
ordinary  way,  and  where 
there  is  a  good  light, 

»I  have  used  the  back 
:'  combination      of     the 

Goerz  Double  Anas- 
tigmat, Series  III., 
F6-8.  At  full  aperture 
splendid  definition  is 
given  ;  many  of  the 
photographs  I  took  on 
the  Fame  Islands  were 
taken  in  this  way.  A 
fairly  rapid  exposure 
should  be  given  when 
using  electricity,  as 
the  bird  often  releases 
the  shutter  at  the 
moment  of  alighting, 

and  is  therefore  moving  its  wings.  i-2OOth  of  a 
second  is  quick  enough  for  almost  any  bird,  but 
sometimes,  if  the  wires  are  carefully  arranged,  it  is 
quite  possible  to  give  an  exposure  as  slow  as  i-i5th 
of  a  second.  The  only  silent  shutter  for  rapid  work 


STARLING 


PHOTOGRAPHING  BY  ELECTRICITY    257 

which  I  know  of  is  the  "  Anschutz "  focal-plane. 
I  use  this  excellent  shutter  for  slow  exposures  also, 
owing  to  the  silence  of  working.  An  interesting 
point  I  have  noticed  in  connection  with  focal-plane 
shutters,  is  that  when  exposing  with  them  one  never 
gets  halation  on  the  negative.  Many  of  the  birds 
I  photographed  on  the  Fame  Islands  were  against 
the  sky,  and  behind  them  was  the  strongest  light ; 
yet  not  a  trace  of  halation  is  visible  on  the  plates. 
With  the  same  exposure  given  with  a  shutter  which 
works  on  the  lens,  the  birds  would  be  almost  invisible 
owing  to  the  halation,  mostly  caused  by  the  reflection 
of  light  from  the  inside  of  the  camera.  This  is,  I 
think,  one  of  the  most  important  features  in  favour 
of  focal-plane  shutters. 

The  Cadett  "  Lightning "  plates  are  the  best  for 
rapid  exposures,  and  I  advise  pyro-soda  developer, 
diluted  with  plenty  of  water  for  development.  The 
Cadett  "Lightning"  plates  are,  however,  so  exceed- 
ingly fast,  that  care  must  be  taken  net  to  over- 
expose. On  a  bright  summer  day  an  exposure  of 
i-6ooth  of  a  second  can  be  given  when  using  Cadett 
"  Special  Rapid  "  plates  with  a  lens  working  at  F  6. 
The  advantage  of  using  the  "  Lightning "  plates, 
however,  is  that  with  a  rapid  lens  it  is  possible  to 
stop  down  to  F  1 1  and  still  give  an  exposure  quick 
enough  for  flying  birds,  and  much  better  definition 
is  secured.  If  the  best  possible  negatives  are  re- 
R 


258       HILLSIDE,   ROCK,   AND    DALE 

quired,  I  recommend  all  Nature  photographers  to  use 
Cadett  plates. 

I  hope  shortly  to  place  in  the  market  a  thoroughly 
practical  bird  camera,  which  will  contain  all  the 
things  necessary  for  taking  successful  bird  pictures. 
This  will  be  supplied  by  Messrs.  Sanders  and  Crow- 
hurst,  of  71,  Shaftesbury  Avenue. 

There  is  an  ever-growing  interest  taken  in  bird 
photography,  and  I  do  not  wonder  that  it  should 
be  so.  Any  enthusiastic  naturalist,  who  once  takes 
up  this  exceedingly  fascinating  branch  of  photo- 
graphy, does  not  readily  give  up  the  practice. 
Searching  for  and  photographing  the  nests  of  our 
commoner  birds  is  most  interesting,  yet  when  we 
come  to  tracking  our  rarer  birds  into  some  of  the 
wildest  parts  of  the  British  Islands,  bird-nesting 
with  a  camera  becomes  an  exciting  sport,  leaving 
behind  pleasant  memories  not  readily  to  be  forgotten 
of  days  and  hours  spent  in  birdland. 


PUFFINS 


